Keeper of the Truth
by Sandilynn Petersen
Summary: When a client hires the team to infiltrate a cult, Murdock poses as a vulnerable recruit to become the team's inside man. But the client isn't telling them the whole truth. Will his deception jeopardize the mission or will it endanger the lives of the entire team?
1. Chapter 1

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 1

"More coffee, Hannibal?" At Hannibal's nod, Face refilled the Colonel's cup and returned the pot to the coffeemaker in the kitchen.

Murdock turned away from the telescope which stood just inside the balcony doors. "I gotta say, Faceman, ya got some nice taste in penthouses. Th' view from here . . . did ya know ya can see everythin' goin' on at th' pool downstairs with this li'l scope?"

Face cleared his throat and flashed a dazzling smile at his friends. "The view's even nicer poolside."

The pilot grinned broadly. "I bet."

"'Nough of your jibber-jabber!" B. A. scowled at Murdock as he crossed to the couch and flopped down, crossing his ankles and propping his feet up on the ornate oak coffee table. "I wanna hear 'bout the mission, not 'bout one of Face's woman friends."

"Oh, trus' me, Big Guy. There was more 'n one o' them down there. Mus' be real hot outside as much skin as they were showin'. B'sides, I don' wanna be samplin' the local talent when I got my girl Dani waitin' for me back at th' VA." Murdock raised his eyebrows at the con man as he glanced toward the window, then at the Colonel. He smiled mischievously at the regret Face showed as he decidedly took a seat with his back toward the balcony.

Face sighed, making Murdock smirk. "So who's our client, Hannibal?" The con man shot his friend a withering glance.

"Theodore Schreiker. He claims to have escaped a mountaintop compound owned by a group who calls themselves the Keepers of the Truth. Their supreme leader is an egotistical maniac called Reverend Matthias Barger." Hannibal looked at each of the men in turn, especially at B. A. and Face. The Sergeant and Murdock gaped at him and then at each other in disbelief.

The Lieutenant stared incredulously at his leader. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his fingers digging into the upholstery. "Isn't this like a bad case of deja vu?"

"Gotta 'gree with Face, Colonel. Sounds too much like Martin James 'n' his special brand o' crazy. Ya do r'member him, don'tcha?" Murdock swung his feet off the coffee table and stood. Shaking his head, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to pace from the couch to the window and back again.

"So why'd he hire us? If he escaped he ain' in any mo' danger," B. A. stated, his eyes following the agitated movement of the pilot.

"He wants his property and money returned. He claims that Barger brainwashes new initiates into surrendering all of their possessions to the Keepers. But Schreiker's sure that Barger hasn't had enough time to liquidate the deed and bank accounts he stole from him."

"I don' like it, Colonel. Las' time ya went up 'gainst a maniacal cult leader, he had ya playin' hide 'n' seek with his gun-totin' disciples o' evil. 'N' I had a hard time findin' ya b'fore _they_ did!" Murdock stopped to look at the older man and groaned. "So this ain' negotiable? Ya really are gonna try 'n' bust up Barger's cult?"

Face leaned forward to hear Hannibal's answer.

The Colonel fixed his eyes on his Lieutenant. "I know last time our goal wasn't to recover any stolen property but to free the recruits from the clutches of Martin James. This time maybe we can do both."

Murdock started pacing again.

"Ya said it was on a mountaintop. This ain' gonna mean I gotta get in no chopper, does it?" B. A. grumbled. He glowered at the pilot but saw no glimmer of enthusiasm on Murdock's face at the prospect of flying in for a rescue.

"There's more than one way to get up and down a mountain, B. A." Hannibal grinned.

"And being on a mountain, that compound must be heavily defended," Face offered.

"Yeah. They ain' gonna open th' gates wide for us ta come in," the Sergeant added.

"That's why we need an inside man. Someone who can pretend to be confused about life and looking for a deeper spiritual experience. Someone who can find out for us where everything is and knock out Barger's defenses to let us in." The Colonel took a swallow from his now cold coffee. His gaze focused on the pacing pilot.

Face drew in a breath of disbelief. "Come on, Colonel. I'm better at running a scam like that," the con man protested, his eyes following his buddy as he walked back and forth, muttering to himself about deja vu and crazy cult leaders.

B. A. frowned at Hannibal and then at Murdock. "No way, man."

The three men silently watched as the pilot came to a stop, realizing his friends were all staring at him. "What? Why're y'all lookin' at me?"

oooooo

Face scrutinized the list of supplies Hannibal had given him. The sports section of this store wasn't equipped with the climbing harnesses they would need but it did have rope and carabiners. Even as he selected an 80 meter long bundle of 10 mm climbing rope, he wondered what in Hannibal's plan would go wrong this time.

 _I hope we're able to get up the mountain before Barger and his goons figure out who Murdock is. If we don't . . ._

He forced himself not to think about the deadly game Reverend Martin James made them participate in. It was one thing if you were with other members of your team, but if you were alone and isolated on a mountaintop and the prey of a deadly maniacal cult leader, where would you go?

oooooo

B. A. waited impatiently for Hannibal to focus the binoculars on Barger's mountain compound.

"Looks like they figured someone would eventually try to scale the mountain. They have a chain link fence set one or two feet from the cliff edge. I'm not sure if it surrounds the entire compound. Murdock may have to find a way to cut the fence to let us in." Hannibal muttered his observations to the Sergeant, then set the binoculars aside. "Hand me the camera. I'm going to take some photos of the mountain face."

"Thought you were gonna try a front door attack." B. A. glanced at the man beside him as he handed him the camera with its zoom lens.

"We might have to do both. A two-pronged attack would divide up Barger's forces, make it easier for us to get to Barger himself." Hannibal snapped off several shots in silence.

"It don't make sense," B. A. grumbled. "Schreiker was in there. How come he couldn't tell ya where everythin' was?"

The Colonel shook his head impatiently. "Schreiker wasn't there long enough. He figured out what was happening and found a way to escape before he could see the entire compound. But not soon enough to prevent Barger from getting his hands on Schreiker's money and personal property."

The Sergeant rested his hands on the top of the steering wheel. "I don't like it, Colonel. Crazy man havin' ta try an' trick a guy even crazier 'n himself."

Hannibal smiled. "Murdock's been able to fool the doctors at the VA all these years, hasn't he?"

"But he wasn' fakin' it when they put him in there ta begin with. Not so sure he ain' still crazy, all the stuff he does an' says." B. A. stared at the gold rings on his fingers as he spoke. "Are ya sure we can' just do this without sendin' him in?"

The Colonel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why, B. A. Are you worried about what might happen to him?"

B. A. straightened in his seat and scowled. "Jus' hope whatever yer plannin' comes off without a hitch. Guys like James an' Barger're dangerous."

Hannibal decided to drop the subject. All of them were tense. He took another photo of the chain link fence at the top of the mountain as he thought about Murdock. Was he able to do what they needed him to do without arousing suspicion?

Once the pilot understood what Hannibal wanted him to do, his demeanor turned cold and deadly quiet. Almost like he was preparing himself for a behind-the-lines mission he might not survive. Hannibal thought about the pilot's military files and the gaps in his record. CIA, maybe?

But then, this was the same Captain who read comic books and petted invisible dogs. The Colonel shook his head and dismissed the idea.

Scanning the road map spread out on the dashboard, he pointed to a roadway that would take them to another vantage point. "Let's look for other ways to get to that compound. I don't want to try our luck and have Murdock do a flyover in a chopper just so I can get photos of the layout. I don't want Barger to get any more paranoid than he already is."

oooooo

Murdock rested, his legs bent and dangling over one arm of the sofa. His eyes were closed. One arm pillowed his head. The penthouse was quiet except for laughter and an occasional shriek of surprise drifting up from the pool area and through the open window.

He knew at any time he needed total silence he could walk over and shut the window but he enjoyed the slight breeze coming in.

"B'sides, I can' afford t' be distracted right now," he muttered to himself.

For the thousandth time, Murdock visualized himself entering the New Age bookstore Schreiker claimed was a recruiting hub for Barger's cult. He would have to look like something traumatic had happened in his life and he was on a personal journey to find answers to life's most puzzling questions. Giving the impression that he had some property and possessions Barger would want to get his hands on was another thing. Equally important.

 _How'm I gonna do that?_

He was not deeply spiritual . . . that was something his Gramma was . . . but his experiences during the war made him question things about the brevity of life and why some survived and others didn't.

Chuck Heller. He reached up to touch the dogtag around his neck, a duplicate of one he gave each of them for Christmas. It was meant to be a reminder of the sacrifice Chuck Heller made to prevent Face and Bruce Wilson from being recaptured after their escape from their NVA guards. How could one man do that for another, knowing he might not survive another imprisonment?

He shook his head in frustration, forcing the guilt and memories back. "Concentrate, Murdock. Don' go thinkin' 'bout that now."

He wished Hannibal and B. A. would get back soon. In a way, he was anxious to begin his undercover infiltration of the cult. His work with the CIA didn't involve very much action in the field. He was mostly a pilot for Air America, used by the CIA for covert operations. His training hadn't been utilized very much. Maybe it would now.

Drawing in a deep breath, he focused once more on the approach he would try when he entered Scarlet's Journey Bookstore to be recruited by the Keepers of the Truth.


	2. Chapter 2

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 2

Two days passed, days spent in more preparation for the infiltration and assault on the mountain fortress of the Keepers of the Truth. When Hannibal decided they were finally ready to begin the operation, Face found them a couple of rooms at a two star motel on Palmdale Boulevard in Palmdale.

Not Face's first choice. He would have preferred something more luxurious but they had to keep a low profile before, during and after the operation.

They set off for Palmdale when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Along the way, Face secretly scrutinized his best friend. Something was different about him. It was sending up red flags in the con man's mind.

 _Murdock's not acting crazy or fidgety or the other things he is before a mission. He's all business. Is he more nervous about this than he lets on? Maybe sending him in alone isn't such a great idea._

As B. A. drove, the Colonel talked.

"You'll have to convince the shopkeeper you've recently lost someone you love."

Murdock nodded slowly, meditating on the instruction. "Like a parent 'r . . . grandparents? 'N' that's pushed me int' a search for deeper meanin'. Right?"

Face winced at the thought. He knew enough about the Captain's background to know that his mother died while he was very young. Nobody seemed to know about the status of his father. The grandparents who raised him didn't get an opportunity to see him when he came home from the war. Both of them died in the early 70s while Murdock was still in Nam.

 _Hope Hannibal doesn't let him use any of those options as a cover story. Who knows how much of the way my buddy is came from that kind of loss in his life? He doesn't need to relive or remember any of that. Not when his life's in danger._

In the next statement the Colonel dispelled some of Face's anxiety.

"Right, but I was thinking the loved one could be a wife. You'll also have to hint that you have some property that has some value. You want the shopkeeper to believe Barger will be interested in it. If our client is right, the store owner will persuade you to meet with 'someone' she knows that can help answer your questions." Hannibal turned in his seat to look at the pilot. His face didn't display emotion but Face noted a small flicker of concern in his gaze.

 _Hannibal sees it, too. He sees something isn't right. So why isn't he letting me be the one infiltrating the compound?_

"Okey dokey, a wife it is then. What if they try 'n check my story?"

"Your fake identification will check out. Right, Lieutenant?" Hannibal glanced at Face.

"I can come up with a driver's license and I have a female . . . " He cleared his throat at his friends' amused expressions. ". . . acquaintance who gave me a photo of herself. You can put it in your wallet and pretend she was your wife. That leaves the matter of whether Barger and his thugs will contact the records office to see if Murdock is who he says he is. If we can redirect any outgoing phone calls to the van . . . " Face looked at B. A.

"Should be no problem, Colonel. An' I'm working on a pair of glasses the fool can wear that'll keep 'im in touch wit' us." The Sergeant frowned at Murdock's raised eyebrows and light smirk. "I don' wanna hear a buncha singing over the wire. It ain't for entertainin'."

The pilot shrugged and focused again on Hannibal's instructions. Both Face and B. A. exchanged worried glances in the rear view mirror. It wasn't like Murdock to let a comment like that slide by so easily.

"Nice, B. A. If you can at least make it so Murdock can talk to us, he can describe what he sees. It'll make our job easier." Hannibal focused on the pilot again. "It may take a couple of days to persuade Barger that you're genuine. A group like that will be watching for anyone sent in to rescue a loved one now that one of their recruits managed to get away."

"I'll be genuine alright. He won' see through me," Murdock promised, a dark edge to his voice, one which caused Face and B. A. to exchange surprised glances again. "Then what?"

Face hadn't heard that tone very often. It slipped out sometimes when one of them was seriously wounded and the remaining team members caught the goon who caused the injury. It sounded out of place coming from Murdock.

"After you've earned Barger's trust, find a way to be assigned to work near the northern section of the compound. From the photos, it looks like the weakest area and also the easiest climb for us." Hannibal ignored Face's groan and continued his instructions.

Murdock shifted his position in the back seat of the van and leaned closer to hear the Colonel. He ignored his buddy's muttered protest. Even B. A. noticed the hardened expression on the pilot's face as he listened.

"They have some sort of garden in that spot. I saw people working in it. There's a tool shed near there that might provide some cover for us to get through that fence. That's where we'll be mounting our attack. B. A., your job is to ram the front gate and create a secondary diversion as soon as we get inside."

"'N' what do I do, Hann'bal?" Somberly, Murdock waited for the Colonel's orders.

"You will need to be creative and see if you can figure out a way to draw attention to the center of the compound and away from the front gate and the northern section of the fence." Hannibal analyzed the younger man's reaction.

Murdock smiled, but the smile chilled Face inside. He decided cold and calculating was not a look he liked to see on his best friend.

"I can be _very_ creative when I hafta be." The pilot nodded to himself, his gaze distant. " _Very_ creative." He sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, disengaging himself from any further conversation. After a few seconds, noticing both B. A. and Face glancing at him, he closed his eyes as well.

Twenty minutes of silence followed until B. A. signaled a turn and parked in front of the Seven Palms Motel.

"We're here, guys," he grunted, shutting off the engine and pocketing the keys.

oooooo

Face and Murdock shared a room with Hannibal and B. A. in the next room. While Hannibal, B. A. and Face ate a late supper, Murdock quietly slipped away from their motel for an early evening run.

They were used to that sort of thing with the pilot but this time it seemed wrong.

"Fool's too quiet, Hannibal," B. A. grumbled. He reached to grab a huge slice of pepperoni pizza.

"You usually wish he'd _stop_ talking," Hannibal pointed out. His gaze flickered toward the door as if he could summon Murdock by doing so. The Captain had been gone for forty minutes and it was beginning to make him uneasy.

"It's almost like he's practicing to be a CIA agent or something. He's distant . . . focused on something we don't see. When he looks at us, it's like he isn't seeing us. But at the same time, it's like he sees everything, like he's hyper-alert." Face took a swallow of beer and grimaced. "And it started when _you_ decided to use _him_ to get to Barger."

"We need him to have his mind on playing the role of a bereaved husband. Don't we?" Hannibal stood up and walked over to the window, nudging back the drape to peer outside into the darkness.

B. A. put down his half-eaten pizza slice and scowled. "I gotta get some tools from the van. Gonna fine tune those glasses. Wanna make sure they work good." He clomped over to the door and opened it.

Glowering at Hannibal, he added, "We can't be blind goin' in there. One of us might get killed."

As soon as the Sergeant left, Face shook his head and finished his beer. "I'd love to stay and talk to you a bit more but I think I'd better make sure Murdock's fake ID is ready. I assume we begin tomorrow?"

The Colonel didn't respond for a few seconds. Then, dropping the curtain back in place, he turned from his vigil at the window. "He's been gone too long. He should have been back by now."

Face stood and slowly, contemplatively, closed the lid of the carry-out pizza box. "Do you want B. A. and me to go out in the van and look for him?" he murmured, his eyes averted from Hannibal.

"No." The older man said the single word in such a harsh tone that Face sharply glanced up at him. For a moment Hannibal's expression belied something he wasn't willing to admit out loud. Then the Colonel assumed a more relaxed demeanor, even if the con man could see through the act.

"He just needed time to think. He knows he has to be ready for tomorrow." Hannibal walked over to search his duffel bag for something. Pulling out a book, he went over to the bed and sat with his back against the headboard.

"Right." Face watched as the older man opened the book to a spot a third of the way and placed a newspaper clipping being used as a bookmark on the bedside table. The con man noted the news story was about the team. The bold headline proclaimed 'A-Team Responsible For Shutting Down Gambling Ring'. He opened his mouth to ask about it, then decided against it.

He faked a yawn and said, "Well, I'll get that ID done so you can check it before Murdock has to use it tomorrow. See you in the morning, Colonel."

Hannibal nodded, putting on a false impression that he was absorbed in what he was reading. "Yeah, in the morning."

Face smiled to himself as he left the room, almost bumping into B. A. on the way out. Noting that the black man didn't seem to have anything in his hands, the con man asked in a low voice, "Did you figure out where he went?"

"Told ya I was goin' out ta get some tools ta fix those glasses. What makes ya think I was lookin' for the fool?" B. A. tried to brush past Face.

"Because unless you're hiding those tools in your pockets, you weren't in the van getting _anything_." The con man would have teased the Sergeant a little more if both of them weren't worried about Murdock.

B. A. cast a searching look over his shoulder. "Forgot."

"Yeah, right. I'm worried about him, too, B. A. I'll talk to him when he gets back. He probably did what Hannibal said and found some quiet park bench or playground to sit and think for a while." Face was certain he could see a shadow moving a chair to the window of the room he just left. That would be Hannibal, he thought to himself.

"If it'll make ya rest easier, Faceman," the Sergeant grunted as he opened the door to his room. He peered one more time into the darkness before entering and closing the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 3

Another hour passed before Murdock returned to the motel. He noted that the windows of both rooms glowed with soft light. He hesitated, knowing that even one lamp left on in the room he shared with Face meant the con man was waiting for his return.

"'N' that means he wants t' talk," the pilot muttered, unconsciously fisting both hands. "Got a good idea what 'bout, too."

He peeked at the window of the other room only to catch the drape move slightly. A second later the room went dark.

 _Huh. Guess Faceman ain' th' only one waitin' up for me._

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt and contemplated what he was going to say and do once he got in the room.

 _Don' need no heart t' heart right now. Gotta focus on t'morrow. Maybe head straight t' th' shower? Pretty sure I ain' gonna have t' share it with my buddy._

Determined to avoid conversation, Murdock entered the room and waved at his buddy on his way to the bathroom.

"Nice run?" Face's voice was harsh.

 _Uh oh. Better answer that right way 'r he'll keep on proddin'._

"Nice night t' do it. Gonna grab a hot shower 'n' get t' bed. T'morrow comes early." The pilot tried to keep his tone light. He didn't realize until too late that his friend had risen from his place at the table where he was working on Murdock's ID card.

Before the pilot could shut the bathroom door, Face blocked it with his foot. "No."

His anger getting the better of him, Murdock sputtered, "Whaddya mean, no?"

 _Keep it under control, Murdock. Ya gotta keep a clear head 'n' focus. Focus on that place in ya where no one 'n' nothin' can hurt ya. Ain' that what yer handler Henderson always tol' ya?_

"You've been quiet all day and then you avoid all of us by taking an extended run. What's up?"

Murdock thought for only a moment before bursting out in an angry protest. "Come on, Faceman! I'm not as good a con man as you. I gotta get int' character. 'N' havin' t' explain myself ain' helpin' me t' do that!"

He pushed his buddy back from the door and shut and locked it behind him. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he turned on the water in the bathtub and inserted the plug.

Maybe if he took a good long soak, Face would eventually give up and go to sleep. It was only then he realized that he left his fresh clothes in his duffel. With a groan, he peeled off his sweat-soaked clothing and settled into the bathwater. Bending his knees and sliding down, he soon lay partially submerged with the water lapping just under his chin. Sighing, he closed his eyes and savored the sauna-like steam. He would have to be very quiet when he got ready for bed.

 _Or sleep in th' bathtub all night._

oooooo

On Hannibal's instruction, B. A. parked three blocks from Scarlet's Journey Bookstore.

"We're here, fool. Wake up," B. A. announced, glaring in the rear view mirror at the pilot.

"Wasn' sleepin'," Murdock muttered, uncrossing his arms and opening his eyes. The night spent resting in the bathtub made his muscles tight and cramped.

Hannibal turned in his seat to look at him. "Spend a rough night, Captain?"

"Not at all. Jus' wantin' t' get this show on th' road." The pilot felt his best friend's gaze on him. He forced himself to ignore Face's accusatory look.

The Colonel nodded his approval. "And we are. B. A.? The glasses?"

B. A. grabbed a navy blue rectangular case from the dashboard. Partially turning to the man immediately behind him, he placed it in Murdock's hand. "Remember what I said. No singin'. Got it?"

"Got it," the pilot mumbled as he removed the wire-framed glasses from the box and slipped them on. "Seem t' fit okay. Did ya try 'em out t' see if they work?"

"You questionin' my work, fool?" The Sergeant growled the question as a warning.

"If I'm gonna letcha know what yer facin' b'fore ya break int' th' compound, they'd better work real good." Murdock exchanged an angry glance with the black man.

"They will," B. A. grunted, breaking eye contact.

"As soon as you can, give us some idea of the layout of the compound. But be careful." Hannibal drew a cigar from his pocket and lit it carefully. Looking at Murdock through the curling smoke, he hesitated before adding, "Are you ready?"

The pilot nodded without saying a word. Face opened the side door. As Murdock maneuvered his way past him, the con man gripped his arm.

"You be careful. We don't know if Barger is as crazy as Martin James or not. If he is and he suspects you aren't who you say you are . . . "

Murdock's cold expression softened for a moment. "Then I gotta be real good at conning him, don' I? Don' worry. I learned from th' best." He patted Face's hand and stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk.

"I'll be in touch," he murmured. Straightening the tan canvas jacket he wore instead of his trademark leather jacket, he strolled toward the bookstore.

Face shut the door and leaned forward between the front seats to watch his best friend. "Think he'll make it, Hannibal?"

B. A. gripped the steering wheel hard and answered first. "He'll make it. He's got to."

Hannibal drew on his cigar, silent until they saw Murdock enter the bookstore.

"So what do we do now, Colonel?" Face asked.

"We sit here and listen in on the conversation, see if Barger's recruiter takes the bait." The older man relaxed in his seat.

"An' if they do?" B. A. busied himself tuning in the listening device.

"We wait for Murdock to gain Barger's trust and give us the information we need."

"Which will take one or two days. Anything can happen in that time." Face suppressed a frustrated sigh.

oooooo

Murdock opened the shop door and entered, carefully closing it behind him. The bell above the door jangled and announced his entrance. The sound sent small warning shivers down his spine.

 _Feels like walkin' int' th' devil's den._

Sandalwood, sage and lavender scented the air and created a confusing atmosphere as the pilot peered around the store to get his bearings. Bookcases filled from top to bottom with books lined the walls on his left. A set of shelves to his right showcased candles of many colors, shapes and sizes.

The area in front of him contained more shelves with crystals at eye level and bottles and small vials below them. He picked up a vial containing dark red liquid and examined the label.

"Bat's blood oil," he mumbled, his brow furrowing over the thoughts the words conjured in his mind. He quickly put the vial back where it belonged, reaching for a white bottle with a Celtic style gold cross emblazoned on the front. "'N' holy water. Huh."

"Both have their uses." A husky voice from behind startled him. He replaced the bottle and turned to face the speaker.

"H . . . hi." Murdock fought to control his voice. The shop spooked him more than he thought it would. And now this person sneaked up behind him . . . "I didn' hear ya comin'. I was jus' lookin'."

He mentally kicked himself. _No better way t' get rid of a store clerk than t' say somethin' like that._

The wizened dark-skinned woman who scrutinized him raised one quizzical eyebrow. Even though her head was only as high as his shoulder, she carried an air of authority.

"You came here looking for answers."

He nodded numbly, suddenly unsure of himself. She analyzed him in silence for several seconds.

Then, pursing her dark red full lips, she frowned. "Neither bat's blood oil nor holy water will be of use to you. Yours is a deep hurt, wounds that drove you to the edge of insanity. They involved death, many deaths . . . some were from natural causes, most were violent. Some were by your own hand."

Murdock gulped. For some reason, he felt like he should shrink back from her. His gut feeling brought back a memory of when he was in kindergarten. He was sent out of the classroom to talk to a man who had come to see him. That man, Colonel Jackson, had seemed as if he could read minds. He knew how to transfer thoughts, too. Just as Colonel Jackson spooked Murdock back then, this woman spooked him now.

 _If she can read my min', I'd better not try 'n' preten' I lost a wife._

"H . . . h . . . " He cleared his throat nervously. "How d'ya know all that?"

The woman stared directly into his eyes. "Your soul tells me you didn't kill for pleasure or profit. The blood on your hands is like a brand. You think if you don't cover it up, people will see it and judge you for what you did." She hesitated. "There is someone you left behind, someone who came home later, someone you want to help. He is a part of that dark bloody past you hide deep inside."

Unconsciously Murdock reached up to touch the chain holding the dogtag bearing Chuck Heller's name.

She paused as if waiting for an affirmation that what she said was true.

The pilot swallowed again and finally reluctantly nodded. "I was a soldier . . . a pilot . . . Vietnam . . . 'n' there _is_ a guy I've been tryin' t' get t' talk to. He came back in real bad shape." He closed his eyes against the memory of what Hannibal told him. "Real bad shape."

"And you come here to sort out the answers. You don't feel peace inside. You have no one who understands or listens." Her tone had turned sympathetic.

Mutely, his eyes still closed, Murdock nodded. He wasn't sure anymore if he was acting or if this woman had drawn out the truth from his mind.

"If yours was a case of losing a wife or a child . . . "

He opened his eyes and held his breath for a moment. He hadn't even told her the cover story. Scanning her expression for only a moment, he realized she might have started guessing at his personal history with her last statement. But she had known enough to give him chills.

" . . . I would recommend cypress oil therapy to comfort you and give you peace. I would sell you grieving stones . . . Apache tears, ruby, rhodonite. But that is not enough to heal the deepest of your wounds."

Her eyes penetrated him as she continued to speak. "I know a man who helps people like you find answers to life's mysteries. He has many followers who will come alongside you as you heal. If you would like I can make a phone call and arrange for you to meet him."

It was what they had hoped to achieve: a man on the inside, yet Murdock was beginning to wonder if Barger possessed the same psychic abilities as this woman. If he did, Barger would soon know who Murdock really was.

The pilot let the memories from his past flood over him and hurt him all over again.

 _It's th' only way t' make my story real 'nough t' make 'em b'lieve me._

"Yes . . . yes, make th' call," Murdock whispered.

oooooo

"What's the fool sayin', Hannibal? That wasn' the story he was s'posed ta use!" B. A. scowled at the listening device.

"Do we get him out of there?" Face waited for the Colonel's answer, his hand on the side door handle.

"No." Hannibal stared ahead, rolling his unlit cigar between his thumb and fingers. "Murdock has it under control. He knows what he's doing."

After another few minutes, Hannibal gave the order to return to the motel room and wait for more information.


	4. Chapter 4

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 4

Murdock slouched in the chair the shopkeeper offered him when she returned from making the phone call. She had reminded him of the war and now the memories were buzzing around in his head like angry hornets. More than once he removed his glasses and swiped his hand over his eyes to stop them from being so blurry.

 _Damn glasses! Mus' be prescription lenses._

She handed him a cup of steaming light brown liquid. "I thought you might like to have something to drink. They're sending someone to take you to see my friend. My name is Delia Depreysie and I'm the owner of this establishment."

"Merle Somers. Sorry 'bout all this trouble I'm makin' for ya." He gave her his most forlorn look and hoped it left the right impression.

"No trouble at all. I'm glad to help anyone who needs it." She smiled and held out the cup.

Nodding mutely, he accepted it and, trying not to be obvious, sniffed the aroma of the contents. If it was a sedative or poison, it might have a smell to warn him. The aroma was familiar and brought him back to his childhood in Sour Lake, Texas.

 _Gramma used t' drink this for her stomach problems._

"It's chamomile. My ex-husband's favorite," the store owner murmured. A faint smile made her seem less ominous. "Not bat's blood, witches' brew or poison." Putting a small tray on a side table, she gestured toward the creamer canister and sugar packets. "Help yourself."

He emptied a packet of sugar into the cup and stirred the contents. Aware of her intent gaze, he sipped at the tea and waited for a reaction.

 _She wouldn' try 'n' poison me if they wanna recruit me. More likely, she'll slip me a mild sedative t' make sure I'm more agreeable t' goin' with 'em._

"So where do you come from . . . originally, I mean?" Delia asked, her hands busy doctoring her own cup of tea with powdered creamer and sugar.

"A li'l town in the southeastern part o' Texas. Sour Lake. It ain' far from Beaumont. Ya prob'ly never heard of it but it's kind o' where the big oil company Texaco got its start." Murdock took another sip of tea. He wasn't sure but he thought the store owner hesitated for just a second when she heard the name Texaco.

"What an exciting place to grow up with all of that oil exploration going on around you! Did you have family who worked the oil wells?" Delia went behind the cashier's counter and brought out a large red tin. Removing the cover, she brought the container over to Murdock. "Have a cookie. They're store-bought. I'm afraid I'm not much of a baker."

The pilot paused, wondering if he should take one or not. If the tea wasn't laced with something, maybe the cookies were.

Not until Delia herself bit into one of the cookies did Murdock take one.

Taking another mouthful of tea, the pilot glanced at the cookie in his hand. There seemed to be nothing unusual about it . . . no discoloration anywhere. "Sugar cookies?" he asked.

"My favorite," Delia answered, her eyes following his hand as he raised his tea cup to his lips once more.

He placed it on the table where the tray was and nibbled at the cookie he had taken from the tin.

 _No . . . it don' taste like it's been tampered with._

"So you come from oil country," Delia prodded.

Murdock washed down the cookie crumbs with another swallow of tea. "Not that it mattered. My Grampa wouldn' let 'em do any searchin' on his land. They wanted to but he drove 'em off with his shotgun." It wasn't totally the truth. Gramma wouldn't have allowed Grampa to do that but neither would either of them strike a deal with the men who came to ask for permission to look for the next Spindletop oil field under their land.

"Don' know how much that land's worth t'day but it don' matter. I kept it in th' fam'ly. I made sure t' keep th' taxes paid. My Gramma 'n' Grampa gave it t' me when they . . . " he took in a shaky breath, noticing how much their deaths still hurt him.

Delia clicked her tongue sympathetically. "You don't need to say any more. Land, money and other things seem pretty meaningless when you've lost people you love so much."

Murdock forced himself to remain calm. He knew she was fishing for the information Barger would want to know.

 _But th' mem'ries she's dredgin' up . . ._

The store keeper stood abruptly, shaking her head as she did. "Where are my manners? Your tea must be getting cold." She picked up his cup and brought it to the counter where she filled it with more tea from a large pot. As he watched, she tore open a sugar packet and stirred the contents into his drink. "Just one packet, right?"

"Uh . . . yeah . . . thanks." He watched her as she brought the tea to him. She gave him the cup and went to the door of the shop.

Peering out at the street, she murmured, "Reverend Barger's people should be here any minute now."

He took another sip from his cup. Dipping the rest of the cookie into the tea, he let it soften, then popped it in his mouth.

He followed the cookie with a large gulp of tea. Within seconds he regretted it.

 _Somethin' tastes diff'rent._

He stared numbly at the cup in his hand, wondering how it got there.

The bell above the shop door jangled again and in his semi-stupor he heard the shop keeper speak. A male voice answered her.

Two blurry shapes approached. One gently removed the cup from his hand and knelt in front of him.

The kneeling figure patted his cheek. "Mister Somers? Merle? Are you feeling alright?"

He peered at the speaker's face and realized it was the shop keeper. Shaking his head, he fought back a wave of dizziness. "I . . . I don' . . . I don' feel good."

"My friends are here to take you to talk to Reverend Barger. But if you want, you can rest here for a while until you feel more like going with them."

The man standing behind her sounded like he agreed.

Confused, Murdock stared dumbly at Delia for a moment.

 _Wait . . . they ain' gonna force me? She's givin' me a chance t' say no? That don' make sense._

"No . . . I'm good. I'm fine." He tried to get to his feet but his legs were rubbery under him.

 _She slipped me somethin' . . . Jus' hope she didn' overdose me . . ._

"Here. Let me help you out to the car, Mister Somers." The male figure loomed up in front of him and grasped his arm, holding him upright. "That is, if you're ready." For a few seconds, Murdock's imagination got the better of him and he thought B. A. was the one grabbing him. He was about to ask him why the burly mechanic was there when he remembered it couldn't possibly be his team mate.

 _Whatever she gave me it's doin' a number on me. A'most blew my cover. Gotta be careful._

Another wave of dizziness, this time accompanied by nausea, swept over him. He collapsed against the man holding him.

If the man's perceived bulk was any indication, Barger's goon was equal to the Sergeant in strength.

His near fall was partially staged to find out what kind of muscle Barger had working for him, but Murdock knew that the drug . . . _whatever it was she gave me_ . . . was not yet having its full effect.

 _'N' then I might be more 'n fallin' down._

Another large blurry form appeared on his other side and propped him back up on his wobbly legs. The colors in the room shifted in front of his eyes as if he was in a giant kaleidoscope. He closed his eyes to escape the whirling colors.

"Mister Somers? Are you alright?" One of the two goons spoke but he sounded muffled and distant.

He couldn't respond. He couldn't push any sound past his vocal cords and his entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. He managed to groan.

At that moment, the scents of sage, lavender and sandalwood were accompanied by another sickly sweet overpowering smell.

He heard the shop owner hiss a final warning before he completely lost consciousness. "Why did you do that? Get him out to the car! We don't need any witnesses."

oooooo

B. A. parked the van in a secluded area of the motel parking lot. They had been listening to the device on their way to the motel even though the signal grew weaker as they got further away.

When they heard Murdock talk about his grandparents, Face sputtered out a protest. "He isn't going according to the script at all, Hannibal. Yeah, he got the name he's assuming right but he wasn't supposed to tell them about his inheritance and risk Barger getting his hands on it."

"When Barger calls to confirm Murdock's . . . Somers' . . . claim to the property, we'll intercept the call. Murdock's real name is on the deed to that land and there is no Merle Somers so there shouldn't be any risk at all." Hannibal opened his door to get out.

B. A. was in the process of disconnecting the listening device so they could continue to monitor it. He had a more powerful antenna ready in his shared room.

"I don't like it, Hannibal. Murdock doesn't sound right. I think this is affecting him more than you thought it would." Face got out of the van, anxious to get to the motel room and continue listening.

"How would you know? You ain't a mind reader, Faceman," B. A. growled. His tone wasn't as gruff as it usually was. He had doubts, too.

As Hannibal got out and shut his door, he nodded toward the device in B. A.'s hand. "Then we make sure we monitor that connection 24-7. At the first sign he's in over his head we'll move in."

Face breathed out a sigh of resigned frustration and followed the two men into their shared room.

B. A. hooked the device up and tilted the antenna in the direction of the store where Murdock was while Face paced back and forth and Hannibal took out a cigar.

"Hurry up, B. A." the Lieutenant muttered.

As soon as the device transmitted the first bit of static, he quickly took a seat close to the Sergeant and leaned in close.

" _Get him out to the car. We don't need any witnesses."_

A male voice none of them recognized spoke. _"I parked the car in the back. The Reverend's waiting to meet this guy."_

Another voice. _"Are you sure you didn't give him too much of that stuff? He don't seem like he's breathing good."_

" _I gave him the same amount of pentobarbital I gave the others. You were the one that thought you needed to hit him with that chloroform."_ That was the shopkeeper.

Face glared up at Hannibal. "Pentobarbital? Chloroform? And you think he's not in over his head yet?"

The store owner spoke again. _"Give him some oxygen on your way to the mountain. He'll come around."_

B. A. grumbled under his breath. "Fool'd better come 'round."

The Lieutenant opened his mouth, ready to respond and then noted the tension in B. A.'s face. Instead, he nodded his agreement.

They made out the telltale sounds of Murdock being dragged somewhere. A few minutes later, a car door opened and shut. The sound of air hissing near the transmitter hidden in the frame of Murdock's glasses let them know he was receiving oxygen.

After a few more minutes they heard Murdock moan softly.

" _You gave us quite a scare back there, Mister Somers. Just relax now. You're in good hands. We'll be there before you know it."_

"Well, it sounds like he's safe for now." Hannibal appeared calm about the whole thing but Face noticed he hadn't lit his cigar yet.

"For now," the con man echoed. "Let's hope he stays that way."

The Spindletop oil discovery at the Spindletop salt dome near Beaumont, Texas, in 1901 is considered the beginning of the Texas oil boom. Although it stopped producing around 1936, Spindletop would have been a legendary discovery Murdock would have heard about.


	5. Chapter 5

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 5

Murdock's vision slowly returned to normal. He continued to greedily take in oxygen through the mask the man in the brown hooded robe provided him. Gradually Murdock felt better, more in control of his mind and body. It was a slightly unnerving feeling, knowing you were being taken to a man who may or may not be as crazy as Charlie Manson and not being able to defend yourself. He wondered how close he came to never waking up.

The man beside him smiled benevolently but his muscular build visible even under the robe made the pilot think involuntarily of a bar room bouncer.

His mind raced through the possible drugs and means of delivery the shop keeper possibly used to cause him to pass out.

 _She seemed like such a nice lady, too . . . for a cult recruiter._

By the time they reached the closed compound gate, he realized how fortunate he was that the pentobarbital . . . and he was pretty sure that was what it was . . . had time to wear off. The drug created delusions and confusion and in that state, he was sure he might have said something that would make Barger suspicious.

"Brother Luke will escort you to the Illumination Room, Mister Somers. That's where Reverend Barger speaks with all new arrivals," their driver announced. A Keeper slid the gate open and the driver eased the car through.

Murdock craned his neck to look back just in time to see the gate shut.

 _No turnin' back now . . . int' th' den o' the lion . . . 'r devil._

"Here we are." Brother Luke gestured at a small brown frame building. From the outside, it didn't look special to the pilot.

The hooded man in the seat beside him got out of the car and held the door open for him. "Are you able to walk, Mister Somers? Do you need help?"

"No . . . I think . . . " Murdock attempted to stand on his own and found himself still shaky from the combined affects of the drug and the chloroform. He held onto the door frame for a few seconds until he felt surer on his feet.

"Do you need help?" Brother Luke asked again. Murdock thought he detected an impatient edge to the man's voice.

"No. I think I can make it." The pilot willed himself to move along to the entrance to the building, then waited for his escort to catch up to him and open the door for them.

"Take off your shoes," Brother Luke murmured.

"Why?" Murdock responded, waiting for the answer before he committed to doing as instructed.

 _I mean, it ain' like I got a hole in my sock 'r nothin' but it's harder t' get 'way if it all goes south 'n' I got no shoes on._

"Because the Illumination Room is a consecrated holy place. We remove our shoes before entering just like Moses did when he approached the burning unconsumed bush in the wilderness." Brother Luke was already removing his sandals and placing them on a mat beside the door. His explanation sounded as if it had been well-rehearsed, Murdock thought.

 _Prob'ly had lots o' practice tellin' new recruits th' same thing._

"Oh." The pilot was glad that he didn't wear his high top tennies for this mission. Slip-ons were easier to get back on. Not much easier but better than lace-ups.

Once the hooded man saw his charge was ready, he opened the door.

As soon as they entered and the door was shut behind them, Murdock noticed the room had no windows. Darkness surrounded them. The atmosphere held a slight odor of bleach which partially masked another more ominous smell, one he recognized from Nam.

 _What th' hell? Did they figure me out a'ready?_

He tensed, waiting for the attack he was sure was about to come.

"Most Holy Servant of the Most High. We, your servants, are here," Brother Luke intoned from somewhere behind him.

 _'Tween me 'n' th' door, if I'm judgin' it right . . . gonna have a mountain t' get past . . ._

Suddenly a single piercing light switched on. Temporarily blinded, Murdock held up one hand to shield his eyes. The setting was a little too much like one or two other times when an enemy wanted information from him. His muscles tightened even more.

He wouldn't speak . . . yet. Not until whoever used this means to intimidate him revealed himself and asked the first question.

"Brother Luke. Come closer."

The voice crackled as it spoke. It didn't sound like it came from an elderly man.

 _No . . . it sounds more like a recordin' . . . sure hope th' guys're pickin' up on some o' this . . ._

The hooded brother grasped the pilot's elbow and led him toward a curtained-off area the pilot hadn't noticed in the middle of the room.

Murdock almost broke out into nervous laughter. Without moving his head, he let his gaze scan the room for signs of hidden cameras.

 _What is he? Th' Wizard o' Oz? 'N' what 'm I s'posed t' ask for? Brains? A heart? Courage? . . . 'r maybe . . ._

"Kneel." Brother Luke hissed, gesturing to a wooden kneeling bench. He had already gotten on his knees before the curtained booth. He bowed his head and clasped his hands loosely together in front of him. Glancing at the pilot, he made a quick movement of his head that Murdock was to do the same.

"Who do you bring with you into the Holy Place, Brother?"

Murdock knelt, narrowing his eyes as he did. Protocol or no, he decided to speak for himself.

"My name is Merle Somers 'n' I was tol' you could help me find answers. That is, if there _is_ someone behin' curtain number one. If all ya are is a bunch o' smoke 'n' mirrors, I'll look somewhere else."

Brother Luke darted him a warning look and shook his head slightly. The pilot kept his eyes on the booth, scrutinizing it as best he could from that distance for signs of movement.

"For someone seeking the truth, you speak with insolence." The edge of the curtain moved slightly. "To receive your answers, you must humble yourself. Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door will be opened unto you."

Murdock recognized the sentences from somewhere, something from his childhood his Gramma and her church used to say.

 _It's th' Bible. I'm a'most pos'tive o' that. Well, a skunk c'n spray on perfume but it's still a skunk, like Grampa a'ways used t' say._

He knew if he continued to talk like he did, he would get nowhere and might even be killed for his words.

With a heavy sigh, he responded. "I'm sorry. It's just I ain' been sleepin' good lately. Lot o' stuff in my past's been hauntin' my dreams. I gotta fin' some peace 'r I'm gonna go nuts." He let it all out in one steady stream of words, not even having to try to make them sound desperate.

 _'Cause some o' it's th' truth._

He bowed his head and buried his face in his hands. His horrific war memories once again threatened to overflow his mind.

"Your impertinence has been forgiven," the disembodied voice droned. "Merle Somers, because you have repented, I can help you. I know your heart."

Murdock steeled himself knowing whatever this self-declared holy man knew, he had heard from Delia Depreysie over the phone.

Barger continued his recitation. "You have killed men in wartime and suffered the loss of those you loved. You have wondered why a loving God can let those things happen. Instead of facing your demons, you have hidden them. You have hidden your guilt, your sorrow. You cannot help the one who has come back home until you have helped yourself."

Silence filled the next minutes as Murdock waited for Barger to speak again. Finally the pilot murmured, "I don' know how."

"To help yourself, you must first be emptied. You must isolate yourself from everything outside yourself."

More silence. The pilot frowned. "'N' how do I do that?"

"Do as Brother Luke directs you. He has much experience with the process. Only then will you be prepared to receive the answers God allows me to give you." The room light dimmed and Brother Luke clambered to his feet.

He offered a hand to Murdock to help his charge up, then turned to the door.

"That's it?" Murdock stared at the other man's back as he walked away.

"No, now you begin the Season of Preparation. Come with me and we'll get started." Brother Luke opened the door. Both men slipped on their shoes again and Luke let the pilot go before him into the sunlight.

Murdock let his gaze wander around the compound as he was led. He committed to memory where the camp's car and van were parked and where other buildings were located. He had to admit, the compound was very well-organized. Everywhere he looked, small groups of robed men, women and children were engaged in outdoor work or what seemed to be meditation or group calisthenics.

Outside one larger structure, a young black-haired teen clothed in a faded orange hooded robe and blue jeans dipped his hand into a large bucket. Pausing in his job of peeling and cutting the dripping wet potato in his hand, he caught the pilot's eye. A sorrowful look appeared briefly over his handsome young face.

A woman in a dark blue robe stepped out of the building to stand beside him. Murmuring a few words in the youth's ear, she frowned at Murdock before entering the building once more. The teen appraised the pilot for a second longer, then returned to his task.

Luke grinned and called out to the boy as they passed. "Good work, Brother. You'll soon earn your green robe if you continue in obedience as you are." The boy smiled, a bit too sadly for the pilot's liking, and bowed his head to the older man in a show of respect.

Murdock turned a quizzical look to his guide after they entered another brown frame structure, this one looking like a barracks of some sort.

The hooded man shook his head. "You'll meet the others after your preparation. Until then, you will not have contact with them. You must isolate and empty yourself first."

Luke walked over to a large closet. "You should remove your jacket and shirt. You can leave your T-shirt on. I need to put all of the things in your pockets in an envelope for safekeeping. Your wallet and watch, too." The guide took the jacket and shirt as Murdock removed them and placed them on a hanger. "Gets too hot if you wear a lot of clothes under these robes."

Luke held open a large manila envelope and Murdock dropped in his wallet, watch, his lucky rabbit's foot and a few odd pieces of shoelace and string.

"Oh, and the chain around your neck, too."

Murdock flinched. Giving up the wallet was fine. Everything was in order. But the dogtag with Chuck Heller's name on it was sure to rouse questions . . .

"These will be returned to you when the preparation is over if you still want them." Murdock detected a hint of impatience in the other man's voice. Reluctantly he removed the dogtag on its chain and dropped it in the envelope.

When the guide opened the closet, the pilot saw it was filled with garments of many colors. Brother Luke hesitated for a moment, then removed a black robe. "This one should fit you," he stated, passing it to his charge. He transferred the envelope to a lockbox on the top shelf.

The pilot frowned and slipped his arms through the sleeves. "Black?"

His guide nodded solemnly. "Black represents the wrongs you have done and the sorrows you have experienced in your previous life. It's a symbol of the old ways."

Murdock nodded thoughtfully, closing the robe in front and tying the cloth belt around his waist.

 _In a crazy sort o' way it makes sense, I guess._

"Ya said t' that kid he was gonna 'earn' his green robe. What'd that mean?" The pilot knew there were different colored belts in karate. Each was earned and each was symbolic of something.

 _But usually black's th' highest belt._

"In time, Merle. I can call you that, can't I?" Luke seemed genuinely anxious to be hospitable toward the recruit entrusted to him.

It was difficult for Murdock to believe this man was implicated in what their client accused the Keepers of the Truth of doing. "Yeah, ya can call me Merle."

The hooded man shut the closet door and turned to inspect his charge's appearance. He seemed satisfied with what he saw.

"So," Murdock murmured. "What now?"

"Now you start your emptying process," Brother Luke said, ushering Murdock outside once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 6

B. A. glowered at the listening device. "I don't get all that stuff Barger was jibber-jabberin' 'bout, Hannibal. Isolate yourself from everythin' outside yourself? What kind of fool talk is that?"

The Colonel's expression was grim as he leaned back in the motel room chair. "I don't know, B. A."

"If Murdock's isolated from the rest of the compound, how's he going to collect information?" Face frowned. "I'd hate to guess what the Season of Preparation is all about."

"Barger has to make new recruits believe they don't need anything in life but what is right there at the compound. He has to get them to submit and willingly offer him everything they once possessed. They have to pledge their devotion to him. The question is how Barger does that." Hannibal stared thoughtfully at the device on the table in front of them.

Murdock wasn't saying anything now. He was obviously with one of Barger's men, maybe the one called Brother Luke, as he was being moved to another building or location.

"Do you think Murdock was telling Barger the truth? Has he been having nightmares again? Or is it part of his con?" Face leaned across the table, trying to hear any telltale sound of what was happening to his best friend.

"I don't know." Hannibal waved off any further conversation as Murdock's voice crackled over the listening device. "Listen."

oooooo

Murdock dutifully followed Brother Luke across the compound. As he passed, he once again made eye contact with the dark-haired potato-peeling teen.

Even after they continued on, the pilot could sense the youth's intent gaze on him.

They walked between two buildings and approached a very small hut about the size of the guard shack by the front gate. His guide stopped and opened the door, revealing a dark interior that held a wooden chair, its back against the opposite wall. The space inside the hut couldn't have been more than three feet wide by four feet deep. There was room enough to stand and to sit but not to move around. From his robe pocket, Luke produced a padlock.

Murdock felt his heart begin to race inside him. He had a feeling he knew where this was leading.

"Y . . . ya gotta be k. . . kiddin' me," the pilot stammered. "Ya ain' thinkin' o' lockin' me in . . . "

"A stay in the Vision Hut is necessary for your preparation. As the Book says, 'Those who walk in darkness shall see a great light.' You must experience almost total darkness to rid yourself of the negative and come to the light." Brother Luke's tone was gentle and conciliatory even as he encouraged his charge to sit on the chair.

"B . . . but what if I'm claustrophobic? There's barely 'nough room t' breathe in here."

The hooded man smiled and patted Murdock's knee to reassure him. "I'll be checking on you every hour to ensure you're safe."

The pilot swallowed hard. Their client had not mentioned this as part of his ordeal. Realizing how few details Schreiker _had_ told them, he gripped the edges of the chair so tightly his knuckles hurt.

His guide continued to give him instructions but all Murdock could see was an undefined period of isolation in a very dark uncomfortable place.

"You won't need to wear glasses during the Season of Preparation," the guide said suddenly, holding out his hand.

For a second Murdock stared at the hand numbly, unsure how to prevent the confiscation of his means of talking to his team mates. He wasn't worried about Barger or his men finding the tiny transmitter in the frames. B. A. was skilled at hiding things like that. It wasn't that at all.

 _If I give 'em up, I'll be completely isolated._

"But . . . I'm a'most blind without 'em." Murdock shrank back against the chair as he protested.

"Really, Merle. Trust me. You won't need them for now. I'll put them in the envelope with your other personal effects and keep them in the lockbox until you're done." Luke's eyes narrowed a little.

 _'R maybe that's my 'magination._

Just to avoid suspicion, Murdock carefully removed the glasses and put them in his guide's hand.

"That's better." Brother Luke wrapped them in a handkerchief and placed them in a deep front pocket of his robe.

Murdock felt all of his muscles tense, sure that the robed man would close the door on him any time.

"You must try to relax completely, Merle. Don't think, don't use your senses, just try to make your mind a blank slate. A blank slate can be rewritten with positive thoughts; one cluttered with worries and ideas cannot." Brother Luke's voice became almost hypnotic as he slowly shut the door.

The outside sunlight gradually shrank to a sliver. By the time his guide shut and locked the door, Murdock was already craving blue sky and fresh air.

"I'll be back in an hour to see how you're doing. Visualize yourself as a vessel being slowly emptied of its contents. Freedom from the past begins when you are a blank slate."

The pilot heard the sound of the padlock being secured, then the crunch of sand and gravel underfoot. The sounds faded and became too distant to hear.

There was no sound now except for the pounding of his heart in his ears. He had no way of telling if the Vision Hut was bugged.

 _It might be if they wanna make sure new recruits're who they say they are._

He wondered if being emptied of his contents meant he would not get any food or water during his confinement. It wasn't like he hadn't experienced that sort of thing before in the POW camp.

"Well," he whispered, "Brother Luke didn' say I couldn' talk t' you, Billy." In the secrecy of the hut, they wouldn't know if he was addressing an invisible friend or an imaginary dog. Even though Murdock knew that Billy was really his brother, dead for many years, no one else did. He intended to keep it that way.

If they questioned him, he would pat the air beside him just as he always did and warn them that Billy turned an ugly shade of purple when folks made him angry.

 _'N' B. A. ain' gonna get mad at me either for talkin' t' Billy now that th' guys can' hear me._

That thought drove the reality of total isolation even harder into his heart. He would give anything to hear B. A. growl, "There ain't no dog, fool."

He had been in tight spaces before. Crawling around the interior of a Boeing to get the drop on would-be hijackers, for example. It wasn't fun but he wasn't claustrophobic either. Except when it came to elevators. He drew the line with elevators. They talked back to you sometimes.

 _But this hut's small, dark 'n' so quiet I can prob'ly hear grass grow outside if I listened real hard._

The partial sensory deprivation would get to him if he didn't remember his training.

Murdock murmured, "So whaddya wanna talk 'bout, Billy?" Unconsciously his hand stroked the air beside his left knee as he waited in silence and darkness for Brother Luke to return.

ooooo

Hannibal tried to keep a calm exterior even as he listened to the exchange between Murdock and his guide. From what he could hear, the Keeper was going to lock Murdock alone in a totally dark hut.

His mind involuntarily returned to a mission involving a sweatshop owned by a man called Presley and an illegal immigrant smuggling ring which supplied the labor. They had captured him when he posed as a client and shoved him in a hut that was little more than a tin box.

Hannibal remembered the sun beat on the metal roof and made the temperature inside hot enough to cook a man alive. If the team hadn't found the smuggler's compound and him in time . . . he hoped the Keepers' isolation hut was in the shade.

All three men heard the sound of someone handling Murdock's glasses. The voices that belonged to Murdock and his guide grew muffled as though the transmitter was covered with something.

"Well, there you go." Face ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "We just lost our only means of communication with him." The con man stood and turned on his CO. "We have to go in . . . now."

Hannibal gritted his teeth. Of course, Face would be anxious. Murdock and he were as close as if they had been born identical twins. At least it seemed that way sometimes.

"I think that would be premature, Lieutenant. It sounds like Murdock is just being confined for a while until he can convince them he's ready for the next step to becoming a member of their group. As soon as they release him, he'll find a way to report in." Hannibal didn't know if he was trying to convince Face and B. A. or himself.

"So we wait." The three words were said with bitterness and resignation, the same emotion the con man's face registered.

B. A. pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the door.

Hannibal followed him with his eyes. "He knows what he's doing," he insisted. "We go in when Murdock lets us know he's ready. Not until then."

"I heard ya," the big man muttered. "But I ain't gonna bust down no gate with my van. Gonna find a salvage yard an' get somethin' I can use that I don' need ta fix after we're done." B. A. glanced at Face and motioned with his head at the door. "You got the money, Faceman. Salvage yard ain't gonna let me have what I need for free."

Face hesitated for only a second. "Right on your heels, B. A." He turned to give Hannibal a curt nod. "With your permission, sir." He added the last word with sarcasm.

"I'll monitor things here. Call if you run into trouble." The Colonel's focus was on the listening device but he looked up after the door closed.

Softly, he added, "Be careful."

oooooo

As B. A. turned out onto the road, Face settled back in the front seat of the van. "So how much do you think you'll need to spend?"

The Sergeant flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. He drove in silence for a couple of minutes, heading out of Palmdale.

The con man stared at him in growing disbelief. "You weren't really going to a salvage yard. Were you?"

"We'll get there . . . later." B. A. stared morosely ahead.

"So what are we doing?" Face smirked a little. He had a pretty good idea of what the Sergeant was thinking.

"Just wanted ta take 'nother look at that mountain." B. A. quieted any remarks with a threatening glare.

"Think we'll be able to pick out where Murdock's being kept?" Face dug out the binoculars from their case.

"Don't know. But I want ta know where ta go ta find 'im when we bust in there. Fool might need help."

The con man knew better than to comment on the Sergeant's statement. He wouldn't mind knowing where Murdock was either so in case B. A. couldn't get to him . . .

"But we _are_ still going to the salvage yard, right?" Face squinted at the horizon, trying to make out which mountain Hannibal and he would have to climb to get to the compound.

"O' course we are! Want somethin' armored an' heavy ta bust down that gate."

The con man fell silent.

He knew Murdock was resilient. He held out against their NVA captors as well as the next guy, maybe a little better. Then he remembered the last day they were in the POW camp.

Murdock had been separated from them for hours before Ferret and the other NVA guards were prepared to herd them along the trail to the next camp. Thrown in a confinement pit big enough only to stand up in, snakes and other camp vermin at his feet, taunted by the guards, Murdock emerged deathly silent and unaware of anyone and anything around him. Face thought he had finally snapped.

 _He did have his breaking point. All of us do._

Face hoped Murdock didn't reach his before they could enact Hannibal's plan.


	7. Chapter 7

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 7

As B. A. and Face entered the motel room where Hannibal sat monitoring the listening device, they both noted the tension in their leader's expression.

"Did you hear anything, Hannibal?" Face tried to act nonchalant but he knew the older man wasn't buying the act.

The Colonel shook his head. "I think Murdock's new friend Luke put the glasses in with the rest of Murdock's things but I can't be sure. There's absolutely nothing coming over the receiver. What about you? Did you find something you can use, B. A.?"

"I'm all ready ta move when I need to. All it needed was a li'l weldin' an' tinkering." The Sergeant moved toward the bathroom as he spoke. "Gonna get cleaned up. Let me know if ya hear anything new."

The con man waited until B. A. shut the door before he commented. "A little?" Face said with deadpan seriousness. "He made a half ton pickup almost look like an Army tank." The con man folded his arms.

"And you pinpointed the hut where Murdock is?" Hannibal kept his eyes on the tabletop in front of him.

"We're not sure but we think so." Face raised an eyebrow as he took a seat across from the Colonel. "Were we that obvious?"

"It's what I would have done if my CO told me to wait and I thought one of my men . . . or friends . . . was in danger." The older man fixed his gaze on the con man. "We'll get him out of there alive. But we will also complete the mission."

Face took in a breath and let it out as a frustrated sigh. Silently he sank into the chair opposite the receiver and leaned forward to listen.

oooooo

The temperature inside the hut wasn't stifling hot but the combination of stale air and murky darkness was getting under Murdock's skin. And that combination made him jumpy and more likely to do something that would tip Barger and his men off.

 _But ain' that th' whole purpose b'hind sensory deprivation? T' trip your prisoner up so he makes a mistake?_

Quietly humming the tune to 'Bohemian Rhapsody', the pilot listened for any indication his guide . . . or captor, as he was starting to think . . . was returning. He let Billy sing the words to the song.

His spirit brother had just finished the chorus "Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me" when Murdock thought he heard something tap the outer wall of the hut. His muscles tensed as he strained to listen for any more sounds.

"Shhh! Ya gotta sing a li'l softer, Billy. We don' want Brother Luke t' hear us." Murdock put a finger to his lips and then stifled the sudden urge to laugh. "I forgot . . . ya can' really see me in th' dark in here, can ya?"

Billy stopped singing long enough to answer. _I can see ya jus' fine, brother. 'N' I'm keepin' my ears open. When he comes back, I'll be quiet._

"I guess ghosts don' need light t' see, huh?" Murdock sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "I'm kind o' tired o' singin' anyway. I wonder how long b'fore he does come back. It sure seems like more 'n an hour."

Billy didn't answer this time. For a few seconds the pilot panicked, thinking his spirit brother left.

Then he heard footsteps approaching the building. He could almost taste the blue skies and fresh breezes as he waited for Brother Luke to open the door and release him.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, I'm here." _Where else would I be?_

"I thought I heard someone humming. That wasn't you, was it?"

Murdock rolled his eyes. _No, it's th' Mormon Tabernacle Choir singin' White Christmas. Course it's me!_

He barely resisted saying that out loud. "Jus' passin' th' time, Brother Luke."

There was a resigned sigh on the other side of the door. "That's what I thought. I should have told you before that making any kind of sound delays the emptying process. You'll have to stay in there a while longer now."

 _Longer? Rats!_

"When will ya know I'm ready?" Murdock held his breath as he waited for the other man's response.

"When you're willing to give away all your possessions and follow Reverend Barger in the path to truth."

The pilot would have smirked if the prospect of staying in this tiny space wasn't so disheartening. He chose to clarify Luke's statement. "All of them? Even my Gramma 'n' Grampa's land?"

"Everything of value." Luke sighed again, this time with frustration evident in the sound. "Look, Merle. Jesus had only the clothes on his back. He asked the same of his disciples. And the first Christians in the book of Acts sold all they had and shared with all of their church brothers and sisters. Reverend Barger isn't asking anything that doesn't have an example in the Bible."

"But everything?" Murdock remembered his Gramma's sacrificial offerings to the church and how sometimes it meant they couldn't afford new clothes or finer food. Thinking of that, it made some sense to him.

 _But Barger d'mands everything?_

"A part of your heart is enslaved to whatever you hold onto. You have to let go of everything to fully embrace the truth. An empty hand can hold more coins than one already full." The words sounded sincere but without seeing Brother Luke's face Murdock couldn't tell for sure if the guide really believed it.

As the pilot mulled over the things the other man said, Brother Luke spoke again. "Fasting is also part of the process. Jesus was in the wilderness forty days and nights without food or water. To be emptied and ready for the infilling of the Truth, you must deny your physical body its lusts and desires."

Murdock gulped. Food was one thing. In the POW camp, if it hadn't been for Lin Duk Coo, the camp cook, and the bread he sneaked to the prisoners they would all have starved to death. And when Lin couldn't find a way to get bread to them, they ate many things that would sustain life . . . like rats or snakes. Even when they had nothing to eat, they somehow got through. But water . . .

Even in the camp, where the water was so dirty that dysentery was as common as catching a cold, they drank it anyway to survive.

He remembered something he read. The human body can last only three to five days without water. He could survive a few days longer than that . . . maybe . . .

"But ain' that dangerous?" he protested.

He listened for a reply but the footsteps were already moving away. "I'll be back in an hour, Brother Merle."

The use of the word 'Brother' with his alias brought a little encouragement to Murdock.

 _Maybe Brother Luke's thinkin' I'm jus' 'bout ready t' sell my Gramma for some food 'r water. But he ain' gonna let me outta here, not yet. So how long b'fore th' guys figure somethin's up 'n' they bust in t' find me? 'R will I go nuts b'fore then?_

"Billy? Gonna need ya t' keep me grounded," Murdock muttered, shutting his eyes. "Ain' gonna make it through if ya don'."

oooooo

Even though Brother Luke came back at regularly spaced intervals, Murdock was losing track of time.

As the guide walked away from the hut after asking questions designed to determine if the recruit was "emptied of himself," as he put it, the pilot tried to remember if it was Luke's fourth or fifth visit.

His stomach grumbled a protest. Murdock had stopped whispering to Billy a while ago. He could barely choke out answers to Brother Luke's questions. His mouth was too dry to even lick his lips. He longed for a glass of water.

For a few minutes he reviewed his guide's questions and tried to figure out how he should respond the next time so he could be released. Realizing he couldn't think as clearly as he wanted, he gave up with a sigh.

 _Guess I know now how a maniac like Barger can get people t' follow him. 'N' I ain' even got t' th' place where I start hallucinatin'._

Shifting in the chair, wishing there was enough room to stretch his legs, he wasn't prepared for the tiny tapping sound on the outer wall to his right. A pause of a few seconds and then it happened again.

The tapping was too structured to be caused by anything in nature like a wind-blown branch.

Tap-tap. A small pause. Tap-tap-tap. Another pause. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap. After a very long pause, the tapping repeated.

He recognized it as a pattern, not Morse code, but familiar. Very familiar. It had been years since he had to use that code for sending or receiving messages. But with all the practice he had using it in the POW camp, he knew it very well.

 _H . . . I? Hi?_

Frowning, he hesitated before tapping out an answer. If he was right, there would be a response.

Five taps, two taps for the letter 'W', two taps, three taps for 'H', three taps, four taps for 'O'.

The answer was slow in coming, mainly because it was such a long word to relay by the tap code.

As his visitor answered with taps, Murdock mouthed the letters. "F . . . R . . . I . . . E . . . N . . . D. Friend?"

The pilot didn't know whether to be suspicious or relieved.

He had to know who the person was that knew the POW camp code and risked communicating with him.

Squeezing tightly against the wall where the taps originated, Murdock tried to speak softly to his 'friend.' His voice was rusty from disuse but he managed to croak the three words out.

"Who are ya?"

There was silence for several seconds.

 _Did I scare him . . . 'r her . . . 'way?_

A low voice, decidedly young and male, answered him. "We can't talk for long. My mother'll be looking for me."

Murdock heard movement near the floor of the hut and quickly glanced down, expecting a rat or snake had found a way in. A rectangular patch of dim light illuminated his feet. Looking more closely, he noted a hole in the wall where a board had once been. A hand holding a bottle of water emerged through that hole.

"Here. Take a few swallows and give it back."

Murdock did as instructed, swishing some of the water around in his mouth before swallowing it. He took two more gulps before recapping the bottle and passing it back through the hole. As refreshing as the water was, he had to know who his mystery benefactor was.

"Now who are ya? 'N' why're ya helpin' me?"

"Not now. I have to get back to the kitchen. I'll try to sneak over here again soon." There was a pause, then a hurried encouragement. "Don't give up. Don't let them break you."

The rectangular light disappeared with the sound of a board being fitted back into place. Murdock listened intently but he heard no more sound, not even that of someone walking away.

 _Well, whaddya think o' that, Billy? We got a friend._


	8. Chapter 8

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 8

"Colonel, they're startin' ta talk." Hannibal woke to a beefy hand shaking his shoulder and B. A's rough voice.

Boosting himself quickly from the bed where he was trying to sleep, Hannibal shadowed the Sergeant across the room to the table.

"Who? Is Murdock one of them?" The older man examined B. A.'s weary expression closely. Hannibal realized with a twinge of remorse that the big man had been so concerned about his team mate's safety, he hadn't slept for several hours. Instead, he had let the Colonel get some much-needed rest. But Hannibal hadn't gotten much sleep, going over the rest of his plan in his mind and wondering what was happening with the Captain. Not that he was worried . . . Murdock was very resourceful.

"Ain't Murdock. Don't think Barger's there either. Least they ain't called him by name. Maybe he ain't callin' the shots after all." B. A. paused. "They ain't given the fool back his glasses yet. He's prob'ly still locked up."

Hannibal nodded as he took the seat closest to the receiver. "At least they're finally digging through his personal items. We have to be ready to divert any calls to the phone in the van."

"Figured out which pole I'll hafta climb ta do that when the Faceman an' me drove out ta take a better look of things."

The voices coming through the listening device seemed to be rising in volume.

" _I went through his wallet, his license and credit cards have Merle H. Somers on them. His driver's license's got a Van Nuys address."_

"Good job, Lieutenant," Hannibal muttered.

" _If his name's Merle H. Somers, why does this dogtag have the name Chuck Heller on it?"_ A harsher voice crackled over the receiver.

" _Maybe a couple of us oughta ask him."_ That was a third voice, more gravelly and sinister.

"Hannibal," B. A. growled, his hand curling into a fist.

The Colonel's jaw tightened as he raised one hand to silence the mechanic. "Listen!"

" _Don't you two know anything?"_ The first man spoke, his tone threatening. " _If you look at those dogtags, you'll see they're not real. It seems to be some kind of keepsake. This guy Heller must have been a good friend."_

The voice who raised the question seemed satisfied with the answer. _"So we check out who this Heller guy is? Maybe he can tell us about Somers better than Somers himself."_

Hannibal gave a small snort of contempt at that. "Chuck Heller can't tell them what his own _mother's_ name is right now. I think Murdock's real identity is safe if they go exploring that rabbit trail."

B. A. touched the dogtag around his own neck, his brows drawn together in a frown. Hannibal hadn't divulged the location of the VA hospital Heller was living in and only hinted at the ex-POW's mental state. It was information the Colonel felt he had to withhold from the other three, especially from Face and Murdock.

The Sergeant tucked what Hannibal had just said away in his mind. Now wasn't the time to try to get the Colonel to tell him more about Heller's status.

"It's time to get into position in case they decide to make some phone calls." Hannibal rose determined from his seat and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he glanced at the Sergeant and smiled grimly. "Let's wake Face up and get moving."

oooooo

The interior of the hut grew darker with the lengthening day. Brother Luke had been back to ask his questions three more times. Each time the guide decided Murdock was not 'empty' enough to be released.

The pilot's spirit sank lower after each session. His mysterious supplier of life-preserving water had not returned. He wasn't sure he had not been hallucinating the visit. If it wasn't for the fact he wasn't dehydrated yet, he would have been convinced his visitor was a figment of his sensory-deprived mind.

"Whaddya think th' guys're doin', Billy?" he whispered, running his thumb along the wood of the door in front of him. He couldn't see the texture but he had the grooves, knots and splinters memorized by now. It was something Billy suggested he do to stay grounded.

It was impossible for him to determine how much time had passed since his guide locked him in the hut. For one thing, he couldn't be certain Brother Luke returned in perfect sixty minute intervals.

He was about to begin silently reciting the lyrics to 'God Bless America' in German when a nearby sound of someone approaching stopped him. Then,

 _Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap._

His friend had come back. He was relieved to hear the slight scraping sound as his visitor removed the board beside his feet. Looking down, he barely saw the revealed hole in the wall.

 _Mus' be later 'n I thought._

It made sense that his mysterious visitor returned under the cover of dark. No doubt the cult member would be punished in some way for helping a new recruit endure the solitary confinement.

"Bread from the kitchen. Wish it could have been more." A hurried whisper, meaning the speaker feared being discovered. A hand with two thickly cut slices of bread poked through the opening.

"Thanks. But who are ya? Why're ya helpin' me?" Murdock leaned closer to the wall and took the food. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. He gratefully took the bottle that was next to be offered. He swallowed, then washed the bread down with water.

"Aaron Schreiker. When you escape, take me with you."

Murdock stopped mid-chew, nearly choking on the morsel in his mouth. "Ya . . . ya said Schreiker?"

The speaker seemed to hesitate. "I sensed you were sent by my father Theodore Schreiker. Ever since I remember I've been able to sense . . . things . . . about people. You're here because of him."

The pilot wanted to believe the young man but the mission would be jeopardized if he trusted the wrong person.

 _But he didn' hafta bring me water 'n' food . . . maybe I should trust 'im . . . but what if . . ._

The kid was waiting for some sort of response. He took a breath and stammered, "I . . . I'm jus' lookin' for truth. I wasn' sent . . . "

"Don't worry. My father's got no love for me. Your secret's safe." Murdock heard bitterness in his new friend's tone even though he spoke only in a whisper.

"Are ya here alone, Aaron?" He frowned, wondering what kind of father would leave his son behind. Then he remembered his own father and the abuse he suffered at his hands.

 _Guys like my Pa'd do that sort o' thing easy._

"My stepmother's here, too. She's totally under Barger's spell. If she knew I was here talking to you . . . " The bitterness had been replaced by fear and the pilot wondered what Barger and his robed goons did to recruits who failed to conform.

"If you can keep a secret, so can I." Murdock thought for a minute before adding, "Yeah, me 'n' my team're here t' make sure Barger doesn' rob anyone o' their stuff anymore."

He heard a deep sigh. "That's good. But that's why my father sent you? To get his 'stuff' back? Not to rescue me?"

"I'll get ya outta here when th' time comes. Okay?" Murdock avoided having to answer the question but he seethed with anger toward their client. Now was not the time to talk about the kid's relationship with his father.

 _There'll be time t' let Schreiker know what kind o' father I think he is. Don' think B. A.'s gonna let 'im off th' hook either._

He forced his thoughts back to the mission at hand. "I'm gonna hafta preten' like they managed t' break me. So don' be surprised, muchacho. I'm jus' playin' 'long b'cause I'm not much good locked up in here."

"Okay. Is there anything you need for me to do?" There was a hint of eagerness in the young man's voice.

Murdock thought about the glasses he needed to communicate his findings with his team. _He wants t' help but if he tries t' get 'em 'n' is caught . . . nope, can' risk it._

"No. I can' letcha get hurt 'cause o' me. But I _will_ get ya outta here. I promise."

The pilot heard a deep sigh before "I'd better take the water bottle as soon as you've had enough or Brother Luke'll know someone's been helping you."

There was that hint of fear again in the kid's voice. Murdock hadn't mistaken it.

The pilot took a few hurried swallows before recapping the bottle and sending it back through the hole in the wall. He held the last of the bread in his other hand, intending to finish it as soon as his young friend left.

"Thanks 'gain, Aaron. I'll see ya when I get outta here, 'kay?"

"And if Brother Luke doesn't let you go, I'll try to sneak some more water and food to you." There was a pause before Aaron added, "I hope your plan comes together. For both of our sakes."

Murdock smiled in spite of his situation.

 _Hann'bal couldn' o' said it better himself._

"I do too, muchacho. Good night."

"Good night." And with that Aaron replaced the panel in the wall and was gone.

oooooo

Murdock eagerly awaited his guide's next visit, rehearsing his answers to the questions silently.

Finally he heard the sound of footsteps and Brother Luke's calm greeting. "Good morning, Merle."

"Brother Luke." The pilot hoped his voice sounded raspy and weak enough to fool the man who literally held the key to his freedom.

"You are well?" The guide seemed surprised Murdock was still able to speak. For a moment, the pilot wondered if he should have groaned instead.

 _Better late 'n never._

He coughed, then moaned softly. "I'm . . . " He swallowed and gasped the last word. " . . . good."

The man on the other side of the door hesitated for a few seconds. "I hope this time will be the last time we have to go through this. Wouldn't you like it to end?"

Murdock rolled his eyes. _Whaddya think? Course I wan' it t' end! But not_ _in th' way_ _your boss wants._

He thought again of Aaron's risky visits and refocused his mind on acting submissive. "Nothin's as important as knowin' th' truth that sets ya free."

"What visions have you seen that shows you that you see the path to the truth?"

The first time the guide asked that question Murdock didn't understand what he meant. Now that he had been almost completely deprived of light, sleep, food and water for this long, he guessed that most recruits started hallucinating within a few hours. Brother Luke's 'visions' were nothing more than the mind working on overdrive to make up for those things.

He wasn't about to tell the guide the hallucinations he had experienced in the past when in similar situations.

 _Too bizarre 'n' not somethin' I wanna dream 'bout when this mission's over. If I didn' have Billy with me_ _this time_ _. . ._

Maybe that was the kind of answer Luke wanted. "I saw a bein' in white robes. Said 'is name was Billy. He wanted t' help me clean out my mind o' all th' pain 'n' mem'ries." Murdock paused. "I feel like he's with me right now."

"That's . . . that's good, Merle. That's very good." Brother Luke sounded a bit surprised at the information. Within a minute, he composed himself and returned to his task.

"The truth brings freedom. Your spirit guide along with the Keepers will help you stay on the path that leads to the ultimate truths."

It was a mantra Brother Luke had repeated each time he visited. Murdock knew it by heart by now.

 _Mus' be words from Barger's Bible._

"Are you also ready to release all of your property and possessions to the Keepers for the good of the group?"

"Billy said I hafta do that t' be free 'n' I trust 'im. Yeah. I'm ready."

Murdock had to mentally restrain himself from rushing the door when he heard the guide fitting the key in the lock. The door creaked open slowly, so slowly he silently prayed it wasn't all a dream.

"Come, Brother Merle. Reverend Barger must speak with you about the next steps in your journey." Brother Luke offered him his hand as the pilot stood to leave the hut. "Careful now. You haven't had food or water for a while. Tell me if you start feeling dizzy."

Murdock remembered just in time that he needed to play the part of someone weakened and disoriented from over a full day spent in darkness and isolation. It wasn't too difficult. His wobbly legs had been cramped in one position too long for him to walk or even stand very well.

He placed one hand on his guide's arm to steady himself. The robed man was standing in one place, staring at something in the small confinement cell. Murdock's gaze followed Luke's.

Four small white crumbs littered the bare floor between the legs of the chair where Murdock had sat. The pilot met his guide's suspicious look.

 _Uh oh._


	9. Chapter 9

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 9

Letting his face express puzzled surprise, Murdock knew there wasn't a good enough excuse to account for those bits of bread. "Wh . . . what're ya lookin' at?"

 _Maybe if I act like I don' know there's somethin' there, he won' lock me in 'gain . . . don' know if I'll make it if he does._

"Did you cheat, Merle? Did you have something to eat during your Season of Preparation?" Was it Murdock's imagination or did Brother Luke sound disappointed?

He could not deny they were not there when his guide locked him in. And now they were. How to explain their appearance? Maybe a half-truth?

"I . . . I . . . " Murdock stammered, making his face as remorseful as possible. Hunching his shoulders and averting his gaze to the ground, he dug the toe of his shoe into the gravel at his feet. "Someone came with bread t'ward th' beginnin' o' my time o' seekin'. I . . . " He gulped, hoping his act would fool Brother Luke. "I took it 'n' ate . . . " He hurried on with his words. " . . . but when they came back 'gain, I didn' take any more. I wan' t' know th' truth. Nothin' else matters."

"Who brought food to you?" His guide's voice hardened. He gripped Murdock's forearm in a vise-like hold. Murdock would normally have reacted by pulling away but he knew he had to act submissive.

"I . . . I don' know. Didn' give me a name. Jus' said they were a friend." The pilot hoped Luke wouldn't ask anything more. "Ya ain' gonna send me 'way jus' 'cause of one li'l mistake, are ya?" He made sure to choke out the last few words as if saying them caused him great emotional pain.

"I need to know who's doing this. You aren't the first to receive a visit." When Murdock remained silent, Brother Luke hissed, "The person who does this is an apostate. He wants to destroy everything the Supreme Keeper has established."

Murdock wasn't familiar with the word 'apostate' but he understood the menace behind the tone.

 _Supreme Keeper, huh? So that's what Barger thinks he is?_

The guide released his hold and narrowed his eyes at the other man. "You're sure your helper didn't give a name?"

Murdock thought about the fear he heard in Aaron's voice when he spoke about his stepmother's devotion to the cult and its leader.

 _I gotta protect 'im. Time t' avoid any more questions._

Clutching the sides of his head with both hands, the pilot groaned and swayed. "S . . . so . . . dizzy . . . "

His intention was to feign passing out from lack of food and water. Brother Luke would be distracted from asking any more questions about the mystery visitor. At least, that was what Murdock hoped would happen.

It was something he had learned to do to avoid the more painful interrogations he had faced. Unconsciousness was a merciful friend when every joint and muscle screamed in agony from the enemy's torture techniques. It wasn't that he feared what these 'Keepers' would do to him if they should figure out he wasn't what he claimed to be. He'd go down fighting before he would give up any information about his mission.

No. He had to protect Aaron Schreiker even if the kid's own father wouldn't. Letting his knees buckle under him, he allowed his mind to go dark and too late realized it wasn't really an act.

The last thing he heard was Brother Luke's alarmed call for help.

oooooo

More waiting. Face wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He wasn't sure if it was Hannibal's seemingly calm exterior or the silence on Murdock's end which made him restless.

They had managed to intercept the phone calls without incident in the van and answer the questions about 'Merle Somers' and his inheritance. Hannibal used his best Southern accent as Face winced at the attempt. He decided the Colonel's best impersonation was a big swamp lizard that couldn't speak at all.

As Hannibal ended the last phone call, the con man fidgeted in the rear seat of the van.

"That should just 'bout do th' job," the Colonel drawled, a mischievous grin on his face. "Think they chomped on th' bait like a passle o' hungry perch. Should see some action purty soon."

"If you're done gloating, what next?" Face knew the answer, hated the answer, but needed to hear it anyway.

"We wait." Hannibal watched as B. A. stalked toward the van, his instruments used to transfer outgoing calls hanging from his tool belt. He removed his gold hard hat with one furious swipe of his hand.

One look at him told the con man that his team mate was as anxious for the assault on the compound to begin as he was. But Hannibal . . . grinning like a movie star about to take to the platform to accept his Oscar . . .

The younger man gritted his teeth and sank back in his seat. A frustrated groan escaped him.

"Problems with that, Lieutenant?" The Colonel's tone grew sharper. His smile disappeared.

Face shook his head and muttered a sullen "Not at all."

Getting in, B. A. slammed his van door a little harder than he needed to. "They buy it, Hannibal?"

Nodding, the older man let his jazzed-up smile flash again. "I have a meeting in town with Murdock . . . Merle . . . and representatives of the cult tomorrow night to talk about his inheritance and what needs to be done to sign it over."

"Ya ain't really gonna let 'em have the fool's Gramma an' Grampa's land, are ya?" B. A. frowned at the thought.

"No, but this meeting may be the only way to communicate with Murdock right now unless they give him back his glasses." Hannibal's tone had turned serious.

"But the fact they're going to meet with you means he's still alive. Right?" Face noticed B. A. straightened in his seat and partially turned toward the Colonel to better see his reaction to the question.

"Well, they can't sign any paperwork for him. He has to be there to sign." Hannibal stared out the side window, avoiding the frustrated glances his two men exchanged. "And when I see him, I'll know what condition he's in."

"And what if they've managed to break him, get him to go along with whatever they say? You know isolation does some crazy things to your brain."

B. A.'s voice was uncharacteristically reflective and low as he responded. "Murdock's tougher 'n that. He don't break all that easy."

"No, he doesn't," Hannibal agreed. But was that a hint of uncertainty in the Colonel's tone that Face detected?

He wouldn't ever know because at that moment the receiver linked to the transmitter hidden in the frame of Murdock's glasses crackled and came to life.

oooooo

Murdock drifted in and out of consciousness. He was aware several someones with strong arms lifted him from the ground and carried him somewhere. Memories of being carried back to his team mates in another time and place kept him from sinking deeper into the darkness of his mind. He had to be sure where he was and who these people were. His mind told him he wasn't in Nam, wasn't in the POW camp but the memories were so vivid, they seemed like the present.

He knew he hadn't been tortured this time. Nothing felt broken or dislocated and his guards were taking care not to drag or drop him. Their hold on him was gentle. He tried to shake the hollow fuzziness and ringing from his mind. The guards were never gentle back in Nam.

"Merle? Merle, can you hear me?"

 _Merle? Who th' hell's Merle?_

It was a voice he heard not too long ago and he focused on remembering who it was. Until he did, he couldn't speak or he might say something that would get him in trouble. And he had to figure out who Merle was and why this person called him that.

Well, he could at least moan to let the person know he heard. He let a soft groan escape. Light shifted behind his closed eyes and the voice commanded, "Here. Put him on this cot. Get me a wet cloth, Brother Amos. You others may return to your duties."

 _Brother?_

As the pilot felt his senses slowly return to him, he began to piece together where he was and who was with him.

 _Th' mission. How'd I forget so easy?_

Someone placed something cool and soothing across his forehead. Another person held his wrist, taking his pulse.

"Another close one. This one's strong. Should be a valuable contributor to our community." That was the man who Murdock now remembered to be his guide Brother Luke.

 _Sounds r'lieved. I wonder how many don' make it . . . 'n' what happens t' them if they don'?_

"Reverend Barger will be pleased. Another seeker has seen the light," Luke continued.

 _Sounds like Luke's bought th' whole thing, hook, line 'n' sinker. Hope he ain' gonna cause too much trouble for me._

"Yes. He will be very pleased." That voice wasn't familiar. It carried a hint of mocking and Murdock wondered at the tone. Was this 'Brother Amos'?

Curiosity begged him to look to see who the other speaker was and if there were others but he resisted the strong urge. He knew he shouldn't open his eyes and let them know he could hear them yet. Not when they mentioned Barger. He might catch some valuable information about the leader and his followers.

The next second he was glad he decided to feign semi-consciousness.

Luke responded. "Brother Merle was approached by our mystery apostate. He was given food and possibly water, too." Murdock was surprised to hear how indignant his guide sounded.

"Well, then are you sure Merle's one of us now? Remember Schreiker had the same thing happen, pretended _he_ saw the light and then _bolted_ the first opportunity he had." That was the other person with Brother Luke.

"Yes, I know. Reverend Barger was _very_ displeased about that. Mocking the ultimate truth like Schreiker did only condemns him to an eternity in hell. At least his wife and son didn't choose to follow his lead. Sad to break up the family but he was leading them straight on the path to damnation." Brother Luke's tone turned pensive as if he really cared about the status of the man's soul.

Despite his apprehension, Murdock found himself feeling sympathy for his guide. Maybe not everything Reverend Barger preached was bad.

"So what about _this_ guy? How can you be sure about him? We checked out his story and it seems to be confirmed but we weren't able to speak to his friend Chuck Heller. At least not in any way that told us much. He didn't talk about anything except a POW camp in Vietnam." Murdock heard the man snort in derision. "Heck. It was like he didn't even know we aren't fighting over there anymore."

 _Chuck? They went t' see 'im?_

His stomach did a quick flip-flop when he heard that. The pilot frowned and then remembered he was supposed to be on the edge of consciousness. As if rousing from his faint, he turned his head from side to side and murmured, "Billy?"

Someone removed the warm cloth from his forehead and replaced it with another cooler one. The same person . . . at least Murdock thought it was the same person . . . gently patted his shoulder.

"Brother Merle has seen the light. He has heard from his spirit guide," Luke affirmed defiantly.

"We can't make another mistake," the other man warned.

"Do I need to remind you that you have not yet earned your brown robe? You have not demonstrated the wisdom and discernment that you must have to wear it." The guide responded harshly but in the next moment softened his tone. "Believe me. Brother Anthony may not have seen through Schreiker's ruse but I know in my heart Brother Merle is one of us." In a wistful murmur, Brother Luke added, "I wish I had found my spirit guide as quickly as Brother Merle did."

Murdock felt certain that his assigned mentor was not part of the scheme to rid recruits of their valuables and property.

 _He really b'lieves all this stuff. I wonder if his spirit guide's as real as Billy is t' me._

The squeak of a chair and rustling of clothes told Murdock that someone had gotten to their feet. He hoped it was Brother Amos who was about to leave. He sensed the other Brother was not as devoted as Brother Luke was to the 'Supreme Keeper'. Tricking him might be more difficult.

"I must report to Reverend Barger and let him know Brother Merle is recuperating. When he wakes let him have his glasses and other personal items. They're in this envelope. Then help him get settled in in the men's barracks."

"Yes, Brother Luke." Murdock detected another hint of sarcasm in the reply. "Anything else?"

"Make sure he starts listening to the tapes right away. We must help him continue on his path to the truth. I'll come to talk to him as soon as I've spoken to Reverend Barger."

 _Tapes?_

Murdock heard footsteps as someone walked away. With a feigned soft moan, he let his eyelids flutter open to see Brother Luke leave the building and close the door behind him.

Another hooded figure sat next to the cot. As Murdock pretended to scan his surroundings in confusion, the Keeper spoke.

"Ah, you've woke up. How do you feel, Brother Merle?" The man's voice dripped with artificial concern.

Murdock focused on his face. He heard Billy whisper to him, _Don' trust 'im, brother. He ain' what he wants ya t' b'lieve he is._

The pilot answered Billy silently even as he struggled to sit up. _I know._ _But I gotta play 'long for now._

He hoped it wouldn't be for very long.


	10. Chapter 10

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 10

"My name's Brother Amos. Brother Luke's gone to let Reverend Barger know that you're recovering from your Season of Preparation. He left me in charge of showing you your new quarters." The robed man got to his feet. Looking down at Murdock, he said in a grudging tone, "Of course, only when you think you're able to stand up."

The pilot considered his options as he looked up at Amos and blinked a few times in feigned confusion.

 _If I get up right 'way he's gonna know I was fakin'. But I gotta get those glasses back 'n' start lettin' th' guys know 'bout th' layout o' this place . . . 'n' try 'n' get in touch with Aaron . . ._

"Give me a few secs." Murdock mumbled his answer as he rubbed his eyes with both fists. "Still a li'l fuzzy in th' head."

"Take your time. I got all day." Brother Amos crossed his arms and scowled at the pilot.

 _Well, ain' you Mister Sunshine._

Murdock slowly moved to dangle his legs over the edge of the cot. Gripping the mattress with both hands, he staggered to his feet.

With a weak grin, he muttered to Amos, "So far, so good. Show me th' way."

As he watched, the robed man scrutinize him up and down before striding to the door and opening it, the pilot mentally assessed the guide's physical strength. Yeah, Murdock could probably give Amos a good fight but the robed man was taller by a couple of inches and brawnier.

 _Mus' be all that homegrown spinach they eat . . . or Brother Amos's int' weight-liftin'._

"You coming?" the Keeper snapped impatiently.

The pilot squinted in the direction of the door and put out both arms as if to feel his way toward the other man. He took a few faltering steps and purposely bumped his shin hard against a folding chair.

"Ow!" he yelped and bent to rub his leg. "I can' really see where I'm goin' without my glasses. A'most blind without 'em."

Grudgingly, Brother Amos opened a large manila envelope and dug around in it until he found what he was looking for. "Here, Brother Merle. Forgot about these. Sorry."

Reaching out for them, the pilot noticed the Keeper seemed to be watching for him to make a mistake. Murdock felt around in the air futilely for a few seconds before Amos took one of his hands and placed the frames in the pilot's palm. Slipping the glasses on, Murdock breathed a fake sigh of relief. "There. Now I can see ya better."

 _Not that these improve yer looks any. Yer still plug ugly._

"How's your head. You dizzy?"

The pilot adjusted his black robe around him and shook his head carefully. The truth was he _was_ still a little dizzy from his ordeal but he wanted desperately to get to the barracks and out of Brother Amos's presence as soon as possible. Something wasn't genuine about the man.

 _He's as much a seeker as I am a ballerina with th' New York City Ballet. He's gonna be trouble for us when all hell breaks loose._

And Murdock was certain all hell _was_ going to break loose . . . when he cleared the way for Face and Hannibal to sneak in and created a distraction so the guys could single out Barger and anyone else who was part of the property-grabbing scheme.

 _Jus' gotta make sure Aaron ain' in the crosshairs o' any enemy fire._

"I'm okay. Jus' don' wanna walk too much 'til I get some water in me. Lead the way, Brother Amos." Murdock forced his rubbery legs to move as the two men left the building and headed across the compound.

oooooo

Face noticed Hannibal's attention to the receiver became even more intense as soon as he heard the crackle of transmission.

 _Here, Brother Merle. Forgot about these. Sorry._

The con man frowned when he listened to the voice. "It doesn't sound like they suspect anything. At least whoever this is called Murdock 'Brother.' He's managed to keep up the act so far."

 _There. Now I can see ya better._

That was Murdock's voice coming in clearly.

"They musta gave the fool his glasses." B. A. looked almost relieved. It was difficult to tell with him.

 _How's your head? You dizzy?_

All three men leaned in to hear the response.

 _I'm okay. Jus' don' wanna walk too much 'til I get some water in me. Lead the way, Brother Amos._

Face breathed out a sigh of relief for all of them. "So where is this Amos taking Murdock now?"

"Shhh." Hannibal held up a hand to silence his Lieutenant.

 _Now that you've ended your Season of Preparation, you must remain silent until you've finished listening to a series of tapes recorded by Reverend Barger for your further enlightenment. The other Brothers will be there with you and tend to your physical needs for food and water but they . . . and you . . . will not speak to each other._

"How is he going to communicate with us if he can't talk out loud?" Face muttered.

Murdock's voice answered the one they now knew was Brother Amos.

 _Kind o' like what a guy goes through t' get t' be a monk? A vow o' silence? Do ya make a cut in our thumbs 'n' make it a blood oath? 'R maybe we spit in our hands 'n' do a secret handshake? 'R what?_

Face wasn't sure Murdock was babbling for the sake of calming his nerves or if he was serious about what he just said. It could have an undesired effect . . .

 _Like pissing Brother Amos off,_ the con man thought, hoping his best friend would try to keep his comments and questions to himself.

 _No, Brother Merle. The other brothers will not break their silence and breaking yours will only serve to prolong the time you have to listen to the tapes. You_ do _want to be a member of this community and start to work alongside us, don't you?_

"Fool never knows when ta keep his mouth shut. Don't know how it's gonna change now," B. A. mumbled under his breath.

 _Yes. Yes, I do, Brother Amos. Zippin' my mouth 'n' givin' you th' key right now. See? Here it is._

Face could almost picture his buddy's hand making the motions. The Sergeant grunted his usual disdain for the Captain's jabbering.

They all heard the sound of a door creaking open and indistinct conversation which stopped abruptly.

 _Brothers, this is Merle. He has just finished his Season of Preparation. He needs water and some soft food, a little at a time. You know what to do. Brother Ryan, show Merle to his bunk. Give him the headphones and start the tape for him._

Face groaned slightly when he heard Murdock clear his throat.

B. A. muttered, "Tol' ya so."

 _Uh . . . jus' a quick question b'fore I shut up for a while? What d' I do if I gotta . . . you know . . . visit Missus Murphy . . ._

Hannibal suppressed a smile and murmured, "Good question, Captain."

 _'Visit Mrs. . . . ? Oh. The latrine's over there. The small building._

"But will he be allowed to go alone?" Face mused.

As if reading his mind from afar, Murdock asked,

 _So I don' hafta have someone go with me t' . . ._

 _No._

"And knowing Murdock, he'll take that opportunity when he's alone to give us some information." Face smiled for the first time since his friend left them to begin his part of the mission. "Good job, buddy."

 _Now get comfortable, Brother Merle, and slip these headphones on . . . that's right . . . the volume is preset so you won't have to adjust it . . . now relax and open your mind to the Truth . . ._

"Brother Ryan, I assume," Hannibal muttered.

They all heard a click like that of a tape recorder being turned on and then a soothing almost hypnotic voice began.

 _. . . truth is all around you in the rising and setting of the sun, the birth of a baby, the gentle lap of waves on a distant shore. You are seeking your purpose for being alive. Why are you alive when so many others die so young? How can tragedies like war happen if there is a God and He is good? How can men kill each other and not reap the punishment for their crime?_

Face's frown deepened with each question. "Hannibal, I don't like the sounds of this. If he has to listen to this garbage for long, it might trigger a flashback."

 _You are on your path to find the answers to all of your questions. You will become a Keeper of the Truth and that is the best purpose for your life there can be. Then you can help others be free from their past and find their life path. Let's begin. I am Reverend Barger and I will work with your spirit guide and your brothers and sisters, fellow seekers like yourself, to uncover the truths which will set you free from all of your misery and pain._

"Yeah, right. Like they have all the answers." The con man stood up abruptly and paced back and forth from the bathroom door to the table several times, snorting in derision at each new thing the speaker said.

"Sit down, Lieutenant!" Hannibal snapped.

With a defiant glare, Face sat down again to listen to the litany Murdock heard through the headphones.

"Nothin' we can do about it, Faceman." B. A. gave the con man a look that spoke more than he could say about their shared concern for their friend.

"So what do we do, Hannibal?" Face's voice was raw with anger.

"We take turns listening. Sooner or later Murdock will go to the latrine and give us the intel we need."

 _I hope,_ the Lieutenant thought to himself, his arms folded over his chest.

oooooo

Murdock let his muscles relax and closed his eyes. He had to play along, let them think he was diligent in his pursuit of the truth. The opening words mesmerized him. In his mind, he visualized the sun rising over the fields of his Gramma and Grampa's farm in Texas.

 _Gotta admit, Barger sure knows how t' set a guy at ease._

The first of the recorded questions startled him.

 _Why are you alive when so many others die so young? How can tragedies like war happen if there is a God and He is good?_

The image of sunrises and sunsets over the old farm fields of home changed into the memories of those over the South China Sea. Without wanting to, he remembered the waves gently lapping on the sands of Cam Ranh Bay. He spent weeks at that hospital recuperating from the trauma endured in the POW camp. Face was with him during that time but here he was alone, separated from the rest of his team.

The voice paused to allow him to reflect.

The other memories followed in quick succession, almost like the waves on that beach. Images of wounded and dying soldiers in the back of his chopper as he lifted them out of hot LZs . . . the cloying smell of all that blood . . . the rivulets of diluted crimson as he tried to wash away the traces of each rescue mission.

As if he were right there, he heard the voices of those who cried for their Mommas as they died and the ones who desperately refused care for their own wounds until their fallen comrades received care for theirs. He involuntarily winced as the memories assailed his mind.

The voice, once soothing, became like a whining mosquito that would not stop until it had drawn its share of his blood.

 _How can men kill each other and not reap the punishment for their crime?_

 _Had_ he killed anyone? He was a pilot. When he went to Vietnam as a raw recruit, he thought that would insulate him from having to kill. His job? To evacuate the wounded and dying and transport troops to the locations where they were needed. At least that's what he thought. He didn't count on ever really coming face to face with the enemy. That was for the ground troops, not men of the air like him.

Not that he was a coward. But his Gramma instilled in him a set of values that included principles about the sanctity of every person's life. _Thou shalt not kill._ The commandment, learned in his childhood, echoed as if to taunt him.

Had he killed? One of the visions flashing through his mind paused and became brighter and sharper than all the others.

The head NVA prison guard Ferret sprawled lifeless atop him, a slash to Ferret's belly and throat, his carotid artery sliced deeply, his blood spurting out and saturating Murdock's ragged clothing. The knife, the guard's knife, was in his hand, gripped so tightly he couldn't release it on his own. B. A. took it from him, speaking to him, telling him he did what he had to do, reaffirming the awful truth. _I did that. I killed him._

But if he hadn't killed Ferret, a fellow POW, Navy Captain Bruce Wilson, would have died at the enemy's hand. A woman would be without a husband and a young girl without a father. Didn't that justify his action? Again his Gramma's words chided him: _Thou shalt not kill._

 _. . . I will work with your spirit guide and your brothers and sisters, fellow seekers like yourself, to know the truths which will set you free from all of your misery and pain._

With effort, the pilot refocused on the voice coming through the headphones.

How long had he been caught up in the memories this time? He rubbed his closed eyes hard with one hand as if to wipe away the memories that would never completely be erased.

The person speaking promised something Murdock had wanted for most of his life: freedom from his misery and pain. All the therapy and psychiatric treatments in the world had not helped him to be totally free from his past.

The guys had helped him to a point but they had their own personal demons to cope with. He couldn't ask them to relive their own wartime traumas to save his sanity.

No, Barger promised something that might actually free him once and for all.

It sounded so good.


	11. Chapter 11

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 11

Murdock forced his memories, his demons, back where they came from: the dark recesses of his mind.

 _Maybe Rev'rend Barger ain' so bad. Maybe he's got somethin' that'll erase all o' th' flashbacks forever. If he's got th' secret t' helpin' me, ain't that worth everythin' in th' world?_

Billy whispered something to him, a question that included the words 'team' and 'mission.' His tone sounded urgent.

 _Sorry, brother. I can' talk right now. I gotta play 'long, pretend I'm one o' them._

He refocused his attention on the recorded message, ignoring Billy.

 _During your Season of Preparation, you learned to empty your mind. Now you must empty your life of all those hindrances which would remind you of the past you want to forget. Jesus owned nothing; each Keeper owns nothing. We have all pooled what we once owned together for the good of the community. God requires total devotion. The Keeper community helps you to devote yourself wholeheartedly to Him._

Murdock thought of the land his grandparents owned. Would it be so bad to be totally free of all of the past? Maybe he could even encourage Dani to join him here.

Someone touched him on the shoulder. It took him a minute to divert his attention from the almost hypnotic soothing voice on the recorder.

The someone who touched him gently shook his shoulder. He was sorely tempted to ignore the insistent prod of his visitor.

There was no way of knowing who it was . . . or sending the person away . . . until he opened his eyes. With reluctance, he did.

A pair of anxious brown eyes scanned his face. He had to wonder why his visitor was so worried.

 _It's that kid . . . what's his name 'gain? . . . Aaron?_

But neither of them were allowed to speak to each other.

 _So why is he . . ._

The kid held up a bottle of water which Murdock eagerly took from him. He hoped he could convey with his eyes the gratitude he felt. He carefully sat up on the cot, allowing the first wave of dizziness to pass before doing anything more. He allowed the tape recording to drone on as he let his head settle.

As he unscrewed the cap and took some of the liquid into his mouth, he noticed how cold it was. God, was he grateful for that refreshing water after his confinement.

 _They gotta have a fridge 'round here somewhere . . . which means they got some kind o' generator 'r power source._

Aaron nodded toward a tray he held in his lap. Murdock hadn't realized the kid had drawn up a folding chair so he could sit beside the cot to which the pilot had been assigned.

Food. Even though Aaron had sneaked him some water and bread earlier, Murdock's stomach grumbled at the sight of it. It wasn't anything more than a mound of mashed potatoes with gravy, a small dish of applesauce and another slice of white home-baked bread slathered with butter but he didn't care.

As Murdock ate, savoring the different tastes and textures of the food, he sensed Aaron scrutinizing him.

 _What is it with that kid? He don' think I'm gonna try 'n' get us outta here right 'way, does he? They're watchin' me too close, waitin' for me t' slip up 'n' show 'em I ain' really brainwashed int' the program._

There wasn't any way Murdock could see to reassure the kid either when he had to maintain silence. Unless he made a trip out to the latrine as soon as Aaron left. Maybe then. Maybe the kid would wait for him and then they could talk.

And Barger's voice was calming. For once in his life since the craziness that was Nam, Murdock didn't fear the images or voices in his head that tormented him on an almost daily basis. They were being replaced by something else and he wasn't sure he wanted it to end.

oooooo

B. A. had taken the first two hours listening to the receiver, then Face, and now it was Hannibal's turn.

There was nothing to hear. As there was nothing to hear in the previous four hours. Just the mesmerizing voice and seductively promising words of the voice on the tape recording Murdock was listening to.

"Either Murdock's very dehydrated and can't make an excuse to go to the latrine or . . . " The alternative was that the easy-going pilot had been brainwashed. "But he's stronger than that. He didn't break in the POW camps . . . he won't now," Hannibal muttered. "He _won't_."

The grim-faced Colonel scrubbed his face with both hands in weary frustration before resting his elbows on the table again. He strained even more to hear anything that came over the transmitter hidden in the frames of Murdock's glasses.

 _Come on, Captain! We need some information before we can make our move!_

"We can't wait much longer for him to make contact, Hannibal." Face spoke quietly from behind him. The older man startled, then composed himself. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at himself for not hearing the Lieutenant enter the room or at Face for stating what he himself wasn't willing to admit.

"We might have to scale that mountain and break into the compound without any intel to help us," the younger man added.

"He's right, Colonel. The fool might be in trouble. We gotta do somethin'." That was B. A. He sounded genuinely concerned.

Hannibal frowned at the receiver and made a decision.

oooooo

Aaron watched the man called Merle eat, desperately wishing there was some way to communicate. He knew saying anything even in a whisper would get both of them in trouble.

He sensed something inside the older man had changed. The boy frowned as he tried to figure out what it was and almost groaned out loud when he thought he understood.

 _He gave up . . . just like the others here in this compound._

Aaron felt panic rise up inside himself with that realization.

 _What do I do now? I can't get out of here all by myself._

At that point, if he knew he could do it without being punished, he would have snatched the headphones away and smashed them and the tape recorder and the cassette tape with those seductive promises into a million pieces.

He let his gaze wander around the room, hoping no one noticed the anguish he felt. One of the brothers was mending a robe and casting secretive looks at the new recruit as he ate. Aaron was pretty sure the man wasn't just curious about Merle.

 _Barger's 'eyes' are everywhere. I've gotta be careful._

The brother caught Aaron's stare and smiled, then returned to his sewing. It did nothing to relieve the boy's anxiety.

Merle finished his meal with a few more swallows of water and handed the tray and water bottle back. He nodded his thanks and started to lie down again on the bed. The boy watched as the older man adjusted the headphones over his ears and closed his eyes.

 _No! You've gotta stop listening to that! I hafta talk to you._

He knew Merle would have to go to the latrine sometime soon. That would be his chance to talk to him even if it was for only a very short time. But if he hung around the latrine area waiting, someone would become suspicious.

Aaron took a quick look around and noted no one seemed to be watching them. Taking a steadying breath, he tapped the man on the shoulder to get his attention.

Merle frowned, then slowly opened his eyes. He seemed genuinely puzzled that the kid was still there.

As carefully as possible to avoid notice from the others, Aaron let his eyes wander to the door, then back to the man on the bed. He raised his eyebrows and hoped his message was clear.

If he stayed any longer the others would suspect something. As he rose and walked to the door, he prayed Merle understood. If he didn't . . . well, maybe he would have to figure a way to get away from the compound and get in touch with the man's friends.


	12. Chapter 12

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 12

 _Damn!_

Murdock was halfway asleep when he felt the urgent need to visit the latrine. The bottled water Aaron had given him did its work.

Going to relieve himself meant having to remove the headphones and turn off the recorder until he returned.

As he swung his legs over the side of the bunk, he noticed one of the Brothers looking at him. The man's eyes twinkled with a natural friendliness as he smiled. No one else was in the room with him. He held a needle and thread in one hand. A green robe lay across his lap.

Murdock smiled back and nodded, then stood and strolled to the door. He couldn't be sure but the hairs rising on the back of his neck warned him that he was being watched.

 _Well, they gotta make sure I ain' runnin' off at the mouth 'n' ruinin' my orientation t' the Keepers._

He shrugged it off. Maybe the Brother was just curious about him. And he seemed to be very busy mending robes. It was probably a boring job. It made Murdock curious as to what jobs he would be selected to do to provide for the needs of the community.

As soon as he thought that, a small voice in his mind said, _But you ain' s'posed t' be lookin' t' b'come a workin' member o' this group. B'sides, it don' look like one o' their greatest needs is someone t' fly 'em anywhere._

It was Billy. Now that the headphones were off and the tape recorded message was silenced, he noticed he could hear Billy more clearly.

Stepping out of the bunkhouse, Murdock blinked at the realization that most of the day had gone by. He hadn't gathered _any_ intel for Hannibal and the guys and the sun was low in the sky.

 _Maybe if I preten' I got lost tryin' t' find the latrine. Yeah . . . they can't fault me for not knowin' my way 'round here . . ._

He sauntered toward what he judged was the perimeter of the compound, committing to memory the location of each building and what he assumed its purpose was. Two women working side by side in the community garden paused in their labors to watch him approach. The youngest . . . Murdock judged her to be in her early 20's and not bad-looking . . . smiled as she scanned him from the row of green beans she was weeding.

Her analyzing look made Murdock feel a little uncomfortable . . . like he was being rated on a scale of one to ten as a possible husband. But he had Dani . . . but what if the Keepers didn't allow their members to choose their spouses for themselves? No matter how pretty and nice the young woman might be, he knew he couldn't live without Dani by his side.

"Back to work, Rachel," the older woman hissed.

He noticed how reluctantly Rachel returned her attention to her work after one more lingering gaze at his face.

He decided to skim the outer boundary of the compound along the fence line. After walking several feet alongside the high chain link fence, he noted a place at the bottom where the fencing was pushed outward like someone had tried to squirm underneath to escape. He nudged the chain link with the toe of his shoe. The fencing seemed flexible enough.

 _This'd be a good place for the guys t' . . ._

His thought was interrupted by the sound of a bell clanging somewhere toward the center of the compound. He took one last look at the gap under the fence, noted how steep the climb up the mountain would be at that point and gazed up at the sky to see the sun's position so he could give the guys good intel about the possible entry point.

Rachel and her work partner passed by him as he made his way to the latrine. She smiled at Murdock again and then hurried to catch up to the other woman.

He was glad to see that the latrine seemed unoccupied. Before going in, he glanced around. Brother Amos strode purposefully across the compound, small puffs of dust rising from each footstep. He seemed to have come from a building a few yards from the escape route Murdock found.

For a moment, the pilot wondered if Brother Amos had seen him stray to the chain link fence and examine it.

 _But if he did, wouldn' he o' got some o' his 'Brothers' t'gether t' question me?_

Murdock decided Amos hadn't seen anything. He didn't know what the ringing bell meant . . . some call to assembly, he guessed . . . It didn't seem to have anything to do with him.

Slightly reassured he had not been found out, the pilot unzipped his pants and let them fall around his ankles. Just in case someone entered the building he didn't want them to get suspicious of his reasons for being there.

He was about to remove his glasses so he could mutter into the transmitter and avoid having to speak loud enough to be heard when the door opened. The last of the sun's rays slanted in through the small gap.

His stomach did a flip-flop.

 _Maybe Brother Amos's gonna have me hauled up in front o' the group for bein' too nosy. Hope they let me pull up my pants first._

"Merle?" Someone whispered his assumed name and slipped in, shutting the door behind him.

The person clicked on a penlight, illuminating his face. The pilot let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Aaron? What're you doin' here? Ain'tcha s'posed t' be at that meetin' . . . whatever it's for?"

"Only the grownups go to the special assemblies. They won't miss me 'til the meeting's over." The kid glanced nervously at the latrine door. "I saw you over at the fence."

For a few seconds Murdock debated whether or not to say he had gotten lost. The kid said he was a friend, hadn't he? And didn't he want to escape this cult as badly as Murdock wanted to communicate his findings to the guys?

"My guys need t' know where the weak spots are t' be able t' get in here." He could see from Aaron's expression he didn't know how the older man was going to pass along that information. "That was a weak spot."

"I know," the kid murmured. "I've been working on that escape route since my Dad disappeared. It's a long ways down from there but I was gonna try it . . . until you came." When he saw the older man frown, he hurriedly added, "I did it late at night when everyone else was sleeping. I was very careful."

"That ain' the only reason ya came t' talk t' me, is it." The pilot waited for the answer while the kid fidgeted.

After a few seconds of squirming and silence, Aaron glared into Murdock's eyes and hissed, "I thought you'd been brainwashed like everyone else around here. I had to make sure you weren't. It took you long enough to decide to go to the bathroom. Then I saw you find that gap under the fence and I . . . " The kid gulped. "I had to know if you were gonna tell Brother Amos."

Murdock nodded absently. The truth was, he knew how close the voice on the tape had come to seducing him into surrendering everything he possessed to the Keepers. Ratting Aaron out was not too far from being possible.

He swallowed heavily, thinking of that, before speaking again. "Look, Aaron. I got a li'l transmitter hidden in my glasses 'n' I can tell my friends where t' aim for when they climb the mountain. It would help if they knew 'xactly where the fence's weak. Is there some way . . . ?"

Even before Murdock finished the question, Aaron answered. "I could put a yellow plastic grocery bag near that spot and make it look like it accidentally blew there. Would that help them?"

The kid seemed so excited to be a part of the plan that Murdock couldn't refuse. "I don' want ya t' take a chance o' bein' caught . . . but yeah, it'd help 'em a lot . . . jus' be careful when ya do it, okay?"

Aaron smiled and walked to the door. "I'll do it now. The grownups are still at the assembly. It'll be a piece of cake."

Murdock grimaced. Anytime Hannibal said those words, the mission turned out to be everything _but_ easy.

"Jus' be _really_ careful. If it looks like anyone's watchin', don' try it. Okay?" When Aaron didn't answer, he repeated, " _Okay?_ "

"I'll be careful. Just tell your friends to look for the yellow marker." With that, the kid slipped out the door and left the pilot alone.

Murdock removed the glasses and held the spot where the transmitter was close to his mouth. He had to be very quiet when he relayed the information.

A sudden thought paralyzed him for a moment. _I ain' got no way o' tellin' if the guys're still listenin'. What if they ain'? I took long 'nough t' get the info._

Then he chided himself for thinking that way. _Jus' my paranoia workin' overtime. O' course they're waitin' for me t' contact 'em . . . I hope._

"Li'l Lost Sheep t' Big Gray Wolf. Hope ya hear me. Look for a yellow bag wrapped 'round the bottom o' the fence on the southwest side o' the mountain. That's your entry point. I repeat, that's yer target. There's a buildin' a few yards 'way that'll screen you once ya get under the fence."

He couldn't do any more than that. Replacing the glasses on his face and readying himself to go back to the barracks, he thought about the risk Aaron was taking. Had he done the right thing . . . getting the kid involved in the mission?

As he picked his way through the settling darkness, he got the uncomfortable feeling someone watched from the shadows. Dismissing the feeling as his own paranoia . . . _everythin' 'bout this group's a li'l off . . . 'nough t' make anyone paranoid . . ._ he debated what he should do about the recording they had him listening to.

He couldn't stop without a damn good reason. And the Brother who was mending the robes . . . had he gone to the assembly or was he waiting for Murdock to get back to make sure he continued his programming?

When he entered the barracks he groaned silently to himself. The Brother looked up from his sewing and smiled. He watched Murdock lie back down and once again put the headphones over his ears and turn on the recording. Nodding his approval, the other man returned his attention to the robe in his hands.

As the hypnotic message began, Murdock wrestled with his mind, trying to keep it from being controlled.

oooooo

Amos narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure of the one who called himself Merle Somers. Had the man talked to the boy Aaron?

The kid was on his list of people to watch. It wasn't a long list but at the same time not everyone was here willingly. Sure, there were gullible fools like Brother Luke who accepted the tenets of Barger's religion wholeheartedly. They formed a majority.

And then there were those who saw through the property and money grabbing scam Amos and the other three Brothers set up.

Amos grinned. It was perfect. They had only to skim a little of the 'donated' money off the top. Barger didn't concern himself with the financial affairs of his group. He trusted Brother Amos to do that.

But those who questioned whether all of the resources new converts turned over were pooled into caring for the needs of the group . . . you couldn't make them conveniently disappear before there were questions about that as well. Some like Schreiker managed to escape. Not many but some. Others met with serious accidents that silenced them.

Amos continued to watch Murdock as he opened the door of the barracks and entered. This one was another to add to his list.


	13. Chapter 13

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 13

Face set aside the mountaineering gear he was preparing as soon as he heard Murdock's whisper over the receiver. _Finally! I wasn't sure he even remembered our mission._

Someone was with him. The con man hoped the pilot hadn't been discovered.

 _But wouldn't my buddy be . . . well . . . louder if it was someone he knew he couldn't trust? If he was being threatened in any way?_

He couldn't hear the other voice very clearly but he did hear Murdock.

 _Aaron? What're you doin' here? Ain'tcha s'posed t' be at that meetin' . . . whatever it's for?_

There was a quiet response. For a few seconds neither Murdock nor the other person spoke.

Then, _My guys need t' know where the weak spots are t' be able t' get in here. That was a weak spot._

Face spoke aloud without realizing it. "Weak spot? What weak spot? Where, buddy? Where?" He gripped the edge of the table and leaned in closer as if doing that would magnify the voices of both Murdock and his visitor.

 _That ain' the only reason ya came t' talk t' me, is it._

"Whoever this Aaron is, he's risking a lot talking to Murdock. It's gotta be important," Face muttered. The hissed whisper that followed wasn't clear enough for him to understand but he did recognize the anger behind it.

After a minute of silence, he heard his friend speak again.

 _Look, Aaron. I got a li'l transmitter hidden in my glasses 'n' I can tell my friends where t' aim for when they climb the mountain. It would help if they knew 'xactly where the fence's weak. Is there some way . . . ?_

There was some kind of answer and then Murdock responded.

 _I don' want ya t' take a chance o' bein' caught . . . but yeah, it'd help 'em a lot . . . jus' be careful when ya do it, okay?_

"What? What's this Aaron going to do to help? And can you trust him?" The con man couldn't help but worry for his friend. Murdock had pretty good instincts as far as who he should divulge information to . . . _but he's just been confined, deprived of water and food and forced to listen to a bunch of crap meant to brainwash him . . ._

Hannibal opened the motel room door, startling Face. "Is the gear ready, Lieutenant? We move in an hour."

The con man put up a hand to silence him. Hannibal frowned at the receiver as Murdock said softly, _Jus' be really careful. If it looks like anyone's watchin', don' try it. Okay?_

Casting a puzzled look at his second in command, the Colonel sank into the other seat at the table. They both heard the worried insistence in the pilot's voice as he repeated, _Okay?_

Several seconds passed and the two men could only assume the visitor Aaron had left the latrine.

"Come on, Murdock. What kind of sign is this Aaron supposed to leave on the fence?" Face quietly drummed his fingertips on the tabletop and glared at the receiver.

Noticing Hannibal's deepening frown, he explained. "Someone called Aaron is helping us locate a weak spot in the fence surrounding the compound." After another second, he added, "But I don't know if Murdock should trust _anyone_ involved with that group. He might not be thinking rationally enough to make that kind of judgment."

The receiver crackled with the pilot's whispered message.

 _Li'l Lost Sheep t' Big Gray Wolf. Hope ya hear me. Look for a yellow bag wrapped 'round the bottom o' the fence on the southwest side o' the mountain. That's your entry point. I repeat, that's yer target. There's a buildin' a few yards 'way that'll screen you once ya get under the fence._

Face sat back in the chair and stared at the older man. "What do you think, Hannibal? If there _is_ a yellow bag somewhere along that fence, do we trust it was left there by someone who's wanting to help?"

The Colonel got to his feet and started working on the gear Face had left on the bed. "What do I think? We do as Murdock said and look for the yellow marker."

"But . . . "

" _And_ we come prepared in the event it's a trap. Let's get ready to move in fifteen minutes."

Face came over to the bed to assist in preparations. "You said an hour."

Hannibal shook his head impatiently. "As soon as it's dark, we start climbing but first I need to take another look at that mountain. As soon as that marker is placed, any one of the Brothers in charge might see it and know something's up."

"And Murdock will be in danger," Face muttered as he worked.

oooooo

 _The Keepers of the Truth operate on the principles of God's word. It is for the benefit of the group that kindness, gentleness, love, be the catalyst for every action a Keeper takes in his daily walk. There is no room for jealousy, envy, idleness and other such negative feelings. Serenity and peace is our ultimate goal, Heaven our final home. Earthly possessions tether us to this Earth. Freedom from them cuts the ties and allows us to ascend to meet our Father. Are you prepared to join us in our journey?_

There was nothing more. With a click, the recorder shut itself off, leaving Murdock to think about his answer.

Everything around him was quiet and peaceful. No voices competed in his head for dominance. No unwanted grisly memories demanded his attention. He rarely felt so calm and . . . sane . . . as he did right now.

The offer was so tempting.

Opening his eyes, Murdock removed the headphones and found Brother Kyle working on yet another robe. The man was so intent on his labor that the pilot wasn't sure the Keeper had ever monitored him.

Was he allowed to speak now that the tape was finished? What was the next step in his preparation?

 _Well . . . I can always take a stroll outside 'n' see what happens next. Wonder if Aaron's got the marker in place for the guys._

Suddenly the thought of having the guys barge in and disrupt this peaceful community with guns blazing didn't seem like such a great plan.

 _I mean, ain' there 'nother way? All we gotta do is get Schreiker's stuff back for him. That's all we're bein' paid t' do._

He smiled at Brother Kyle as he rose from the bunk. The Keeper smiled back. "Done? Welcome, Brother, to our community."

Kyle carefully set his mending aside and stood. Crossing to where Murdock stood, he clasped the pilot's hand in his, squeezing it warmly, and gave him a quick hug.

"So . . . I'm . . . " Murdock stammered, startled by the friendly gesture.

"I'll go with you to find Brother Luke and let him know you have finished the recordings. There'll be a few questions . . . "

The pilot paled a little. Brother Kyle patted him on the shoulder and added, "Really, the questions are more of a ritual. We must be careful that no one pretends to be one of us for the purpose of spreading discord among us."

Murdock cocked his head in curiosity. "Has that happened? People comin' in t' try t' cause trouble?"

 _Like the guys're gonna do when they break in._

A sad look passed over Kyle's features. "Once or twice. They've been discovered for what they are before any real harm has been done to our community."

"What kind o' harm?" The pilot suspected the latest 'troublemaker' had been the Schreiker kid's father.

The Keeper shook his head in response. "Nothing that couldn't be corrected. Don't concern yourself with it." After a second of reflection, he added,"Once the ritual is over, you will be paired with another Keeper in a job so you can grow and learn in your new journey."

"'nother Keeper? Like a wife? 'R a trainer o' some kind?" Murdock remembered the young woman . . . Rachel was it? . . . that seemed to look at him particularly closely.

Kyle chuckled and, clasping the pilot by his elbow, gently led Murdock to the door. "Are you _looking_ for a helpmate?" When the pilot frowned in confusion, Kyle explained. "We don't have husbands or wives in the community. We prefer to say they are helpmates. The other nomenclature tends to establish a closer bond which doesn't always work. If we are united in our labors to a member of the opposite sex and find out that we are not compatible, or grow incompatible over time, we can change helpmates without the ugliness and discord of divorce."

"Ah." Murdock nodded his head as if he fully understood.

"Shall we?" Brother Kyle opened the door and gestured for his charge to go ahead of him.

As soon as Murdock set foot outside, he froze in place.

A few yards away, Brother Amos, his face red with rage and grim, gripped Aaron's skinny upper arm. The boy seemed terrified, sputtering apologetic explanations of what he was doing away from the hut he shared with his stepmother.


	14. Chapter 14

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 14

 _Did Amos see the kid plant the bag on the fence? But maybe not. It ain' very dark yet but there's plenty o' shadows. The kid said he'd be careful._

Murdock tried desperately to quell his anxiety. Unsure of what to do, the pilot raised a hand in greeting and waved at the Keeper. His gesture meant to distract the other man was unnecessary. Kyle moved on ahead of him, briskly closing the distance between himself and Amos.

With the light from Amos's flashlight shining directly in the kid's eyes, Murdock saw even from a few yards away how scared Aaron was.

"What's going on?" Brother Kyle seemed to be barely keeping his voice under control as he demanded an explanation. Murdock wondered if there was some kind of backstory of tension between the two Keepers.

 _Maybe that can be used t' help us when the guys get here._

He knew he couldn't afford to make a mistake about that. But Kyle's loyalty to Reverend Barger probably would prevent him from helping to expose the property and money grab the pilot suspected Amos ran with or without the Reverend's approval.

"The kid's breaking the curfew for his age group. The rule was set in place for a good reason." Amos glared steadily into Kyle's eyes but released his hold on Aaron's arm. Murdock noticed the defensive postures both men seemed to be taking.

 _Like this ain' the first time they've done this li'l dance . . . hmmm . . ._

"Brother Aaron?" Kyle turned to the boy as Murdock drew closer.

He didn't want to get too near the argument in case Amos thought he was eavesdropping. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tried to shove his hands in his pockets only to remember he wore a robe and not his khakis. Crossing his arms, he hoped the kid wouldn't say anything to incriminate either of them.

 _But why would he? He said he wants t' blow this joint soon as he can . . . 'n' he needs our help t' do it . . ._

Aaron pushed the dirt around with one sneakered foot before answering. Like Murdock, he kept his eyes trained on the ground.

"I had to go pee. He stopped me before I could get there." Aaron muttered his excuse, giving the latrine an anxious glance as if he needed to go badly.

"Then you must have a weak bladder. You were at the latrine an hour ago." Amos straightened to his full height and Aaron seemed to shrink away from him. Murdock fought hard to restrain himself from answering for the teen.

 _He's tryin' t' intimidate the kid._

Aaron chewed on his lower lip and finally blurted, "I had to go number two the first time!"

 _Nice! I couldn'ta thought of a better thing t' say._

Murdock noticed Kyle's eyes glint with amusement. Amos wasn't as mirthful about the answer.

"Then why did he _happen_ to be there at the same time as Merle?" The Keeper crossed his arms and scowled.

The pilot didn't dare risk a look at the kid's face.

 _I can't say anythin' 'til Brother Kyle lets me. I gotta act innocent._

"I didn't know anyone was there, Brother Kyle. Honest! And he didn't say anything to me. I know he's in his Season of Preparation. I didn't want to ruin that." Aaron was babbling, almost begging for the kinder of the two men to believe him and rescue him from the punishment the other might inflict.

"Is that true, Merle?" Kyle turned his attention on Murdock. The pilot pointed to his own mouth and raised his eyebrows. Noting the action, the Keeper sighed and nodded. "Yes, you are allowed to speak to others as well as to me. You've finished the recordings." He gave Amos a scorching look before repeating his question. "Is what Brother Aaron said true, Brother Merle?"

"Yes," Murdock answered, trying to fake surprise that the question was even asked. "The kid here didn' say a word t' me. I wasn' gonna risk not gettin' through my preparation so I didn' talk t' him either." He paused for a second and added, "B'sides, I don' know this kid from the guy nex' door. What would we have t' talk 'bout?"

Amos narrowed his eyes.

"Brother Aaron, go do what you came out here to do and then go back to your hut immediately." Kyle nodded in the direction of the latrine. "And make sure you don't break curfew again, okay? Get everything done _before_ curfew next time."

The teen nodded his head vigorously. "Yes sir, Brother Kyle."

Murdock watched as Aaron sprinted to the latrine and closed the door behind him.

"And, Brother Amos." Kyle gave the Keeper a stern stare. "Don't use strong-arm methods on our youth to make them obey. Remember our goals. They will follow the rules if we model what it means to be a Keeper."

Amos seared both Murdock and his fellow Keeper with a resentful look before stalking off.

Brother Kyle frowned, following Amos with his gaze until he stepped into the shadows between buildings.

Murdock cleared his throat to get the Keeper's attention. As soon as the Keeper became aware again of his presence, the pilot spoke. "He don' seem like someone I'd want t' make mad."

The Keeper's tone was acidic as he responded. "Just keep out of his way as much as possible." He paused, then started walking again at a brisk pace. "Let's go see Brother Luke."

Murdock was about to ask why they had to see Luke when he remembered the questions Kyle said he had to answer before becoming a member of the community. He had to sprint a few feet to catch up to the Keeper.

"I'm really anxious t' b'come a full-fledged Keeper. Think I'll make it?" The pilot suddenly realized he really _did_ want to do just that. The chance to be free from his past nagged at his mind.

 _But the guys're part o' my past. I can't jus' leave them._

"I think if you're earnestly seeking peace you'll do just fine, Brother Merle. Here we are." Kyle stopped in front of the same building as they took Murdock when he first arrived. He opened the door to allow the pilot to enter.

Murdock removed his shoes without being asked and Kyle nodded approvingly. "I can't come in with you. Do well and I'll see you back at the dormitory." He patted Murdock on the shoulder and left.

Casting an anxious glance at the retreating figure, the pilot swallowed hard and entered the building.

"Welcome, Brother Merle. Come and sit down." Brother Luke motioned to a mat on the floor.

As soon as Murdock sat, crossing his legs in front of him Indian-style, the Keeper began his questions. "Brother Merle, have you listened to all of the recordings we gave you?"

 _Dumb question t' start with . . . did I have a choice?_

As if to respond to the pilot's unspoken thought, Luke smiled. "I have to ask. Some people seeking to be Keepers try to skip through the tapes. Not enough to be very noticeable but enough that they didn't receive a fundamental understanding of Reverend Barger's teachings."

Murdock nodded. "I get it. Yes, I did listen t' all o' it. It helped me t' understan' so much."

Luke grinned wider. "Then you're going to do just fine, Merle." He paused. "Are you ready to rid yourself of the past that has damaged you so much?"

Damage. Yeah, that was a good word for it. And didn't damaged people get sent to places where they could be repaired and returned to society? But had the VA done that?

 _'N' the guys . . . they don' know how t' fix me either . . ._

The pilot took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The time to answer had arrived.

oooooo

Face watched the van's red tail lights as B. A. drove away. The Sergeant went to change vehicles and head toward the front entrance to the compound while the other two scaled the mountain. Each of the men had a headset through which they could relay their positions. It was through use of the headset that Hannibal would signal B. A. to crash the gate.

The con man looked up the rocky mountain to the piece of plastic flapping in the breeze from its place on the fence. In the dark it wasn't yellow but it _was_ lighter in color than its surroundings and it _was_ the marker they were looking for.

"You ready, Lieutenant?" The question crackled over Face's ear pieces. Hannibal stood at the base, peering up. Loops of climbing rope hung from his left shoulder and crossed his chest to his right side. A piton hammer hung from the belt which also held the holster with his gun. A large carabiner held several pitons and was hooked to the belt. The con man's gear was similar, except the small rucksack containing the explosives was slung over his shoulders.

Face knew the Colonel was already scanning the rock surface for cracks and crevices to either hold onto with their hands or drive in the pitons. The con man walked over to stand beside his CO and stare up at the mountain. From the base, it seemed to be impossibly steep and high.

 _This is for Murdock,_ Face reminded himself. _We have to get him out of there._

"Let's do it, Colonel," he muttered.


	15. Chapter 15

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 15

Face reached for the next handhold on the mountain face. Above him, Hannibal carefully drove in the next piton. With every clink the hammer made, the Lieutenant gritted his teeth. To him, the sound was loud enough to be heard all the way to LA.

 _Hope the Keepers are sound sleepers._

Neither man spoke. Face figured they had already scaled half of the distance to the top but the con man knew he should not look down to check their progress.

 _Keep your eyes looking up or directly ahead. Don't look down._

But looking up only made the dimly luminous plastic bag seem farther away than ever. He refocused his attention on the next piton an arm's-length away and stretched to reach it.

B. A.'s voice crackled over the earpieces. "In place, Colonel. Waitin' for your signal."

Hannibal answered back, and even his low mutter seemed to the con man way too loud not to be heard by the occupants of the compound. "Good, B. A. Stand by."

Face had just tightened his grip on the next metal stake Hannibal had placed and began to pull himself up when a rock plummeted to the ground from above him. Instinctively he hugged the stony wall as more stones of varying sizes, none bigger than a softball, cascaded down after it. At the same time, he heard a pained grunt over the earpieces.

"Hannibal?" He wasn't sure what had happened but the soft exclamation made him dare to take a peek upwards.

"Colonel!" There was no response. His CO, the one with 'the plan,' dangled limply from the rope attached by carbiner to the last piton he drove into the rock. The piton hammer hung from his harness. A few feet above him, a fresh scar in the stony mountain face marked the origin of the shower of rocks.

From the earpieces he heard B. A. say something. It was a question but the con man was too stunned by what had just happened for the words to register in his mind.

"B. A.," Face managed to stammer. "I think we might have a problem."

oooooo

Murdock felt free . . . free from the past, free from his worst memories of Nam . . . free. He breathed in, his eyes closed, and repeated the words Brother Luke was saying.

"As long as I live . . . as long as I breathe . . . I will not forsake my brothers and sisters . . . I will live in harmony . . . with all . . . "

The litany seemed to continue on for hours, Brother Luke intoning the creed of the Keepers and Murdock echoing what he said.

Finally, Luke murmured, "Open your eyes, Brother Merle. You've completed the pledge. There is one more thing you must do but it can wait until morning. For now, you may return to the barracks."

"Can't I finish it all t'night? I'm not a full-fledged Keeper 'til I do . . . am I?" Murdock felt a pang of disappointment.

 _I don' know . . . it seems like the real deal . . . 'n' if it is . . . why are we thinkin' o' wreckin' it?_

He was starting to have more than a nagging doubt about their mission.

 _I mean, Schreiker had t' of known what he was doin' when he signed over his property . . . why should we be breakin' up a group that seems like all they want is t' live in peace . . ._

Luke interrupted his thoughts. "All of the members of this community must be here to witness you take the final step to becoming a Keeper. They are asleep right now. They . . . and you . . . need rest." The Keeper smiled and stood, holding out his hand to help Murdock to his feet.

"It's . . . it's jus' . . . I wanna start helpin' . . . I wanna b'long . . . "

"I know." Brother Luke patted his shoulder and walked toward the door, then beckoned Murdock to walk with him. "The night will pass quickly enough. You must be patient."

"I'll try . . . but it ain' easy for me . . . "

The pilot looked over his shoulder at the curtained area where the Reverend Barger's voice came from that first time he was in this building. He couldn't be sure but he thought he detected a shadow moving behind the heavy cloth. Staring at the curtain, he paused to make sure but saw nothing else.

 _Was that Rev'rend Barger? 'N' will I ever get t' see him face t' face? He's awf'ly mysterious._

"Coming, Brother Merle?" Luke held the door open for him, a smile on his face. He cast a glance at the place Murdock was looking and nodded as if reading the other man's mind. "You'll get an opportunity to see the founder and leader of our group tomorrow."

Murdock raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"We protect Reverend Barger against any attacks from the outside. Initiates don't get to see him until they have finished their preparations and pledged their devotion to maintaining the harmony of the group." Without another word, Luke gently led Murdock through the door, carefully closing it behind him and locking it for the night.

oooooo

From the moment B. A. heard Face call out for their leader and receive no answer, he debated what to do. The heavy truck he had readied for crashing the gate sat silent about a mile from the gate. It was hidden from view by a rocky outcropping and the dark surrounding it. He had turned the engine off to avoid detection.

 _Hannibal's orders're ta wait for his signal. But what if he ain't able ta give it?_

But it didn't mean he couldn't find out if the mission had to be aborted.

He took a breath and asked the question. "What the hell's goin' on, Faceman?"

He waited for a few seconds and then the earpieces crackled with the con man's voice.

"B. A.? I think we might have a problem."

The Sergeant stared ahead at the road, dim gray in the night. Problem-solving was not something he was comfortable with. Problems meant the possibility of a teammate getting injured or even killed.

Hannibal, Face or even Murdock usually figured out an alternative plan and told him what to do.

He took a deep breath and voiced the question he needed to have answered. "What's goin' on, Faceman? Is Hannibal okay?"

There was a pause, then, "I'm going to have to climb up a little higher to answer that. Hold on."

B. A. tightened his hold on the steering wheel. _Hold on? Nothin' much else I can do but hold on._

He smacked the wheel with the palm of his hand, muttering to himself, anxious for an answer.

oooooo

Brother Amos stormed into the small hut without knocking, his eyes blazing with anger.

He came to a stop a foot from a crudely built table where a overly-thin blonde woman sat, her hand frozen over a cup of steaming tea. Her watery blue eyes opened wide at the sudden intrusion. Seconds later, she relaxed and smiled weakly at the enraged Keeper.

"Brother Amos." She gestured at a wooden crate drawn up to the table. "Come, sit down and have a cup of tea with me. To what do I have the pleasure of your company tonight?" Her smile vanished as he refused the offer of hospitality. "What has my _stepson_ done now?"

She said the word with resignation and turned her gaze toward the curtained-off area of the hut.

"Sister Karen." He breathed deeply several times before speaking again. "Sister Karen, were you aware Aaron broke curfew tonight?"

"Please, Brother Amos. Please sit down." As the Keeper did as asked, Karen stood to get a cup from a shelf above a small camping stove. "Aaron said he needed to go to the bathroom. Did you find him doing something else instead?" She turned toward him, a tea kettle in one hand and the cup in the other.

"He was at the latrine at the same time as the new member of our group. Brother . . . Merle hadn't finished his preparation yet. I have reason to believe Aaron approached him deliberately." Amos took a tea packet from a chipped pink sugar bowl and opened it. Accepting the cup of hot water and dipping the tea bag in it, he waited for her response.

Karen frowned and gazed again at the curtain. "Ever since Ted left us, the boy has been uncontrollable." She sighed heavily and took a sip of tea. "I've thought of turning him over to be punished but . . . " She glanced up at Amos and shook her head. "He's just missing his father."

The other Keeper took a swallow of his own tea. "Have you thought about my offer? We can go in front of the Assembly of Keeperrs tomorrow when Brother Merle finishes his pledges and ask for Reverend Barger's approval."

Karen's mouth hardened into a thin line. When she answered, her voice was strained. "If it will bring stability into Aaron's life and help him with his decision to become a full-fledged Keeper when he comes of age . . . I need a helpmate . . . Ted won't be returning . . . he knows the punishment for turning his back on us." She looked at Amos with teary eyes and reached over to take his hand. "If Reverend Barger gives his blessing, I will accept."

Amos enveloped her hand with his own and squeezed it. He took another swallow of tea and smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 16

"Colonel!" Face hissed as he reached for a promising crack in the rock face to the right of his CO. No response for a few seconds, then a soft groan.

"Hannibal?" The conman pulled himself up beside the Colonel and waited for an answer, straining to see if there were any discernable wounds on the other man's head. He became painfully aware again how high they had managed to climb.

 _If I try to touch him right now, he might pull away and then we'll both be in trouble._

"I'm . . . wha' th' hell hit me?" The team leader turned his face to look at his Lieutenant.

 _He's slurring his words. That can't be a good sign._

A dark rivulet flowed from Hannibal's left temple to his chin.

"Colonel. I need you to focus on me." Face peered into the other man's eyes in a futile attempt to see if either pupil was dilated. It was too dark. Sighing, he gave up.

 _Does he even know where he is right now?_

He figured he would start with an easy question. "Listen to me, Hannibal. Do you know what day it is?"

The Colonel frowned, then winced in pain. "Four."

Face gulped. "Four what?"

"Four fingers . . . you're holdin' up four . . . fingers . . . "

 _Oh, great! I couldn't hold up four fingers if I tried without letting go of this damn mountain! And that wasn't the question!_

"B. A.? Come in, B. A. Are you hearing all this?"

 _Even if he is, what's he going to do? Drive over here and catch the Colonel when he falls?_

"We abortin' the mission, Faceman?" The black man's gruff voice hinted of his worry over his leader's state of being.

"No. Not yet." Face saw Hannibal sag a little. "Look, Colonel. The piton is just above you. You grab it and hold on."

The other man nodded, just a small up and down of his head, and groaned.

The con man watched as the Colonel stretched out his hand, feeling the rock surface until he found the metal spike.

"Good. Now I need you to work with me. I'll drive in the next one, then you have to grab it."

"You're blurry. I gotta close my eyes . . . gettin' dizzy . . . "

"No! Don't . . . " Face resisted the urge to let go of his handhold and slap Hannibal to keep him awake.

 _How am I going to get him up the last few yards without . . ._

For a couple of seconds he watched his leader struggle to keep his eyes open.

Then he had an idea.

"Colonel, listen to me. We've got to get to the top of this mountain. Decker's coming and out in the open we're sitting ducks. Do you hear me? We have to get to the top and reconnoiter with B. A. and Murdock before they get here." He sought the other man's expression for a suggestion that he understood and stifled the sigh when he saw Hannibal rally to full consciousness.

"How far away is Decker?" the Colonel rasped.

"No time to talk. They're too close for that. Now I'm going to hammer in the next piton, then I want you to reach for it. Understood?" Face held his breath, waiting for an answer.

"I've got the hammer. I'll get us up there, Lieutenant." Face watched as his leader gritted his teeth against the pain in his head and prodded the rock surface above them with the hammer for the next best place to drive in the climbing spike.

The con man breathed deeply and waited, looking for any sign he would have to take over.

"Faceman, do you read me?" He heard B. A. over the ear pieces. "We goin' ahead or abortin' the mission?"

Hannibal himself answered. "It's still a go, Sergeant. Just be ready to crash that gate when I give the signal. Out."

Face resisted the urge to say anything more to B. A. It was enough that the Colonel had taken over again. He couldn't help but wonder about Murdock and how he was faring against the brainwashing techniques of Reverend Barger and his Keepers.

 _Hang in there, buddy. We're coming._

oooooo

Amos cast a dark look at the barracks where Merle was sleeping. Something wasn't right about the man. But they had run the background check and inquiries. The man at the Hardin County land office confirmed Merle's property holdings in Texas. Getting hold of that land would be a gold mine . . . or oil field . . . worth of money for him and his friends.

The man's story checked out.

Amos still couldn't get rid of the feeling that Karen's stepson and Merle had been planning something.

Shaking his head, he opened the door to the quarters he shared with his friends. Soft snores greeted him. They were already asleep. As he readied himself for bed, he thought again about Karen. Once the two of them got approval to be helpmates, the boy would have to obey. Or else.

oooooo

Murdock rolled over, restless under the thin blanket covering him. Brother Kyle and the others in the barracks were sleeping by the time he came to bed. He knew he had to stay awake and listen for the first explosion at the fence. Then he needed to fake surprise like any others who woke to the assault on their compound.

He thought he knew now where the documents and deeds were that Schreiker wanted them to obtain. Once the mayhem started, he had to edge his way toward the building and find those papers.

 _Gotta be careful doin' it. That Amos guy's prob'ly gonna be the first one t' go 'n' secure that area._

An encounter with Brother Amos was the last thing Murdock wanted. He would be exposed for who he was instantly and Brothers Kyle and Luke would . . . what? The thought of disappointing them made him feel a little guilty.

 _Well, I'm pretty sure I ain' gonna be welcome here anymore. This's too good of a dream t' be true . . . freedom from my nightmares 'n' flashbacks. 'N' most o' the Keepers really do b'lieve in what Reverend Barger's tryin' t' do here. Jus' a few bad apples like Amos 'n' his buddies spoil the whole thing._

Maybe he could put on his Klingon cloaking device. Yeah, that would hide him from being seen . . . then he wondered if the papers would be invisible under the cloaking device as well . . .

In the next second, he scolded himself.

 _Now ain' the time t' preten' stuff like that. This's serious._

He had a second concern now and that was protecting Aaron. The kid took risks. That could get them both in a lot of trouble if the whole mission went south.

He shifted around again under the blanket to ease a tension cramp in the shoulder where he had taken the bullet for Hannibal . . . how many years ago?

It was as if the pain was there to remind him of his team, his unit, and his loyalty to them. Giving in to the promise of freedom would take him away from the guys, perhaps forever.

 _No. I gotta focus . . . I gotta think o' what I gotta do . . . don' think o' the future . . . don' think . . ._

Grimacing, he massaged his scarred aching shoulder and waited for the first explosion.


	17. Chapter 17

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 17

To Face, the last few yards of their climb were a nailbiting experience . . . that is, if he had been able to release his hold on pitons and rock crevices to bite his fingernails.

For every two pitons Hannibal hammered into place, he took a few seconds to remember to pull himself up higher. Each time he hesitated, Face asked, "You still okay there, Colonel? Decker's almost here. We have to hurry."

Finally they reached the faintly luminous plastic bag marker. Hannibal widened the gap between the fence and the rocky surface and edged underneath to safety. Rolling over onto his back, he closed his eyes tightly shut and grimaced.

Face carefully removed the straps of the rucksack containing the explosives from one shoulder, then the other. After sliding the bag under the fence, he wriggled under himself and lay next to his CO, heart pounding, his breath not yet back to normal.

They were directly behind a small hut, away from immediate view of the rest of the compound. The shadow of the small building kept them well hidden.

There was no time to lose. The plan had been to set a few C-4 charges along the fenceline, get a comfortable distance away and set them off one by one in staggered sequence with a remote control device.

Face peered over at Hannibal, hoping to see some spark of 'the jazz,' just enough to carry them through this mission. His leader touched the wound on his head and peered at the blood on his fingers, seeming to be dazed at what he saw. Face shook his head in frustration.

 _I'm going to have to proceed with the plan . . . alone._

The con man patted his leader's shoulder, reassuring him. "Stay here and rest, Colonel. Decker won't find you here." He sighed when the only response was a muttered, "Do what . . . we planned, Lieutenant." Hannibal closed his eyes.

 _I'll have to place the charges far enough away so he doesn't get hurt when they go off._

But that would require him leaving the shadows of the buildings.

 _Maybe everyone's sleeping?_

At least, he hoped so as he crept from the secure place where Hannibal lay wounded.

oooooo

 _What a time t' hafta go t' the latrine._

Murdock shifted position on the cot, trying to will the urgency to die down. Finally, he let out a soft sigh and stole a look at the sleeping Keepers around him. None of them seemed to be light sleepers from the snores he heard.

 _Oh well. Here goes._

Carefully pushing back the sheet and thin blanket, the pilot stood and slowly stretched, watching for anyone to wake. Seeing no one moving, he stepped quietly to the door and slipped out into the darkness.

The compound was very dark. Clouds partially covered the moon. Murdock scowled up at the sky.

 _A perfect night for someone t' sneak in 'n' cause some trouble._

He noted the Keepers did not seem to be worried about guarding their mountaintop retreat. A twinge of guilt gnawed at him. These people for the most part were peaceful. They weren't doing anybody real harm.

 _We shouldn' be interferin' with them. Schreiker knew what he was gettin' into when he joined 'em. 'N' the guy don' even care what happens t' his kid._

Murdock made his way to the latrine. He saw no one. Pushing the thought of how far Hannibal's plan might have proceeded so far was impossible. They had to be either scaling the mountain right now or already in the shadows readying the explosives.

 _But what if they ain'? Maybe there's a chance . . ._

As soon as he closed the door, he knew what he must do. He took care of his immediate need first while he considered how to voice his sudden objection to Hannibal's plan.

 _What can I tell 'em?_

"Hann'bal, Faceman . . . can ya hear me? Somethin' feels wrong 'bout this. We gotta abort the mission, guys . . . guys? D'ya hear me? We gotta abort."

oooooo

B. A. heard the frantic tone to his teammate's plea and tensed.

 _Hannibal an' Faceman should be just 'bout ta the top. We can't abort now, fool._

Scowling, he hoped the crazy man wouldn't put them all in danger and jeopardize the mission.

oooooo

B. A. wasn't the only one to note the fervency with which Murdock begged for them to stand down. Hannibal groaned softly and raised his head to search out his Lieutenant but the con man was already setting the second or third of five charges. The effort was too much, forcing him to collapse back onto the ground.

 _Too late now . . . too late . . . unless . . ._

He rolled over on his stomach and inched his way across the rocky surface in the direction Face had taken to do his job.

oooooo

Face heard the plea over his earpieces and looked back toward Hannibal. He hesitated over his work when he saw the Colonel crawling painfully toward him. He wasn't sure where Murdock had hidden to make the desperate call to abort.

 _What's he seen that we don't know?_

His part of the plan was clear . . . place the charges and set them off one by one. And Murdock had sounded like he had been influenced by Barger's recordings the last time they heard him over the receiver. Wasn't that the reason Hannibal decided to proceed so quickly with the plan?

He was just about finished. In his hand he held the detonator with its five buttons. His finger paused over the first one as the Colonel hissed, "Lieutenant!"

oooooo

Murdock stopped and listened for any movement outside. The small scuffling noise put him on high alert. His heart caught in his throat and he strained to hear more clearly.

 _Was that somethin' movin' 'round 'r am I jus' imaginin' somethin' that ain' really there?_

He couldn't risk leaving the latrine and running into one of the Keepers. It might be Brother Amos and he knew that would be a very unpleasant encounter without Brother Kyle or Luke to step in.

 _But what d' I have t' be 'fraid of? That big ape can' do anythin' t' me without gettin' himself in a bunch o' trouble._

As if to paralyze him, the thought flashed into his mind about how Amos might find a way to dispose of his body after beating him to a pulp. None of them except the kid Aaron would think about places along the fence that someone could push a body through and over the edge of the cliff.

Murdock shivered and drew his robe closer around him. If he had to get back to the barracks under cover of darkness, he was glad the garment was black.

Just as he curled his hand around the door handle, the entire back wall of the latrine exploded, propelling him forward along with the door and most of the front of the building.


	18. Chapter 18

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 18

Stunned, Murdock landed belly down on top of the door. Pieces of the wooden and stone latrine fell around and on top of him.

Muffled chaotic shouts sounded across the compound as yet another explosive charge went off several yards away. He shielded his head with both arms as the debris from another building rained down.

His ears rung from the nearness of the two explosions. No matter. He knew what was happening. No one needed to explain.

Shock gave way to anger.

The guys hadn't heard him. They had gone ahead without thinking about the people they might injure with the explosives.

 _Damn you, Hann'bal! Why? I gotta stop 'em b'fore they kill someone!_

He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, fighting back the bile rising in the back of his throat. At the same time, he tried to remember where the other living quarters were around the compound. Somewhere in the cluster of huts, Aaron lived with his stepmother.

 _Hope the kid's alright._

Another charge went off. Murdock swung his head to look at the gaping hole that opened up in the fence. He saw Brother Amos emerge from another barracks and run toward a building near the community garden. Two other Keepers, men built like weightlifters, followed him. As Amos neared the door, he fished a set of keys from his pocket.

In the distance, during a lull in the explosions, a truck engine roared to life. Murdock stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back and his head.

 _I gotta fin' Faceman 'n' the Colonel . . . tell 'em t' stop . . ._

A sob escaped from his throat as he ran wildly toward the plastic bag marker on the fence. It was the most likely location the con man would have used to detonate the explosives.

He discovered two women close to the vicinity of the second charge. The younger of the two lay on the ground, her eyes closed, her head pillowed in the lap of the other woman. With an increasing sense of panic, he recognized both of them.

Pausing, he stopped and knelt beside them, taking the hand of the young woman Rachel, the girl who had taken such an interest in him. "How bad?" he managed to get out, glancing briefly into the matron's tear-filled eyes. He didn't need to hear her answer.

"I don't know . . . God help me . . . I don't know . . . " she bent over Rachel, rocking her back and forth and sobbing.

Murdock hesitated before touching the young woman's mangled bleeding shoulder. He had to know if she was still conscious. She drew in a gasping breath and looked up into his face. Recognizing him, she reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Am . . . am I . . . going to . . . die?" Her eyes were clouded with pain.

The pilot shook his head. "No . . . no . . . not t'day . . . I saw worse in Nam . . . _much_ worse 'n' they lived . . . you will too . . . " He stroked her face gently, forgetting the blood on his fingers, streaking her cheek. She released her hold on his hand, gazing up at him with such trusting eyes he couldn't bear it.

 _I'm part o' the reason she's hurt this bad._

He paused before stripping the robe off his upper body. Removing his T-shirt, he pushed it into the older woman's hand. "Use this. Put pressure on that shoulder. It'll keep the bleedin' down." He paused again, seeing the gratitude in the woman's eyes. Pulling the sleeves of the robe back over his arms, he stood and added, "Don' let 'er go t' sleep. Keep 'er 'wake 'til help comes . . . Ya hear me, Rachel? I don' wanna find you dozin' off when I get back here. Okay?"

The young woman's face contorted with pain as her companion applied pressure to her wound but she gave the pilot a faint nod. "Hurry back . . . please?" she whispered.

Another charge went off. Murdock peered in that direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of his team mates. He thought he saw a shadowy figure crouching near the fence several yards away from the last explosion. Giving the two women one more muttered reassurance, he ran.

Halfway there, a large dark robed figure loomed in front of him. The pilot stumbled to a halt, raising his hands immediately in surrender. The weapon the man wielded was pointed directly at Murdock's chest.

"You can stop right there, Merle . . . or is that really your name?" Amos breathed heavily, his lip curled in anger.

"Wh . . . why d'ya have that gun, Brother Amos? Ain' that 'gainst everythin' Reveren' Barger teaches?" He knew the answer to that . . . Amos didn't play by Barger's rules. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself . . . not easy to do when your life was being threatened. "My name's Merle Somers. I came here lookin' for somethin' that'd help me forget Nam 'n' killin' 'n' everythin' else I saw over there."

The cold smile on Amos's face told Murdock he wasn't getting through to the man. "Barger?" Amos snorted.

His gaze left Murdock for only a moment as he glanced at something behind the pilot and smirked.

"Who do you have there, Brother Gregory?"

The answer was in the form of a growl. "Seems we have ourselves an intruder."

There was no mistaking the voice, slurred or not, of the 'intruder' responding to his captor. "Is tha' any . . . way ta . . . welcome a . . . new recruit?" A soft grunt of pain came from someone to Murdock's rear left side.

That was the Colonel and he was slurring his words. Something must have happened to him.

He wanted to look but knew he shouldn't take his eyes off Amos. The guy, after all, was holding an AK-47 and at the range he was from the gunman, Murdock knew he would be dead in a minute if Amos decided to unload it into his chest.

So he continued to keep his hands at shoulder height and look innocent. He hoped Hannibal wouldn't say something that would get them killed.

And he still wasn't sure where Face was.

 _Don' show 'em where ya are, muchacho. Keep yer head down._

He felt rather than heard the front gate give way as the truck B. A. drove crashed through it.

 _'Bout time ya joined the party, Big Guy. Hope ya ain' too late._

oooooo

When B. A. heard the first blast he didn't wait for a signal. His team mates needed him. Pressing the gas pedal almost to the floor, the truck wheels spit gravel as he sped up the incline.

He sneered at the locked gate just before the grill of the modified heavy duty truck smashed it down.

A few heads turned in his direction as he came to a stop in front of a building he judged to be of greater importance from its sheer size and construction than the other huts scattered around the compound.

Glancing across at a burning building, he spotted Murdock with his hands up, a robed man holding an AK-47 on him. Behind him and to his left, Hannibal sagged back against a robed Keeper, this one with a gun to the Colonel's head.

As B. A. took all of that in and tried to figure out what to do, Hannibal let his head drop forward before bringing it back hard against his captor's chin. At the same time the gun went off and the Colonel fell to the ground.

oooooo

Face heard the entire exchange between Amos and Murdock. Keeping to the shadows and moving to a hidden but fairly near place behind the two, he saw B. A. skid to a stop in front of the largest building in the compound.

He saw the other robed man force Hannibal to his feet and out of the shadows. Stifling a groan of frustration, he narrowed his eyes as he drew his pistol from its holster. He could seriously wound the man holding the weapon on Murdock but the Keeper might react and spray bullets as he went down. The other man was a greater distance from him and Hannibal was directly in front of him, forming a living shield.

 _It'll have to be a head shot and I'd better make it clean._

Just then the Colonel butted his head against his captor's chin. There was a flash as the gun in the Keeper's hand went off. When Hannibal fell, every muscle in Face's body tightened. He couldn't move . . . knew he shouldn't . . . it wouldn't help for him to charge at either of the Keepers. And from this distance he wasn't sure if Hannibal was injured or dead.

Then there was Murdock. Amos hadn't flinched when the other Keeper lost his grip on the A-team leader. Much the opposite. He raised the AK-47 to his shoulder and seemed ready to fire.

Face reached inside his explosives bag, hoping something was there he could use that would turn the tables.


	19. Chapter 19

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 19

Murdock heard the gunshot behind him and muffled screams from around the compound. He wanted to turn and see what had happened to Hannibal but the weapon pointed at him and the cold stare the Keeper was giving him was almost paralyzing.

"You're next," Brother Amos growled. The Keeper's face hardened as he raised the assault rifle to his shoulder.

 _This's it. I'm gonna die._

A vision of his bride-to-be Donna flashed into his mind and he closed his eyes involuntarily.

 _But maybe it's better if I don' see it comin'. Maybe if Donna's the las' thing I see, it won' hurt too bad._

He repeated what he had already said.

"I tol' ya. My name's Merle Somers 'n' I'm a seeker of th' truth. Please . . . please . . . I beg ya . . . don' shoot!"

Collapsing to his knees, keeping his hands up in surrender, he waited.

He heard a metallic clatter on the gravel very near him. Within seconds he found it difficult to breathe.

Opening his eyes, he saw a thick cloud of red-colored smoke surrounding him. He dropped to his belly on the ground, seeking out the layer of fresh air under the cloud emitted by the smoke grenade.

 _Smart thinkin' on someone's part, poppin' that smoke like they did._

He wondered if it was Face. His mind flashed to a LZ in Vietnam. Wrong time to do it but he couldn't prevent his memory from rushing in and putting him in full panic mode.

He was at the controls of his chopper, searching clearings for the A-team he was supposed to extract. One of the gunships accompanying his bird had already taken a hit and had to fly crippled back to base.

He remembered saying one of those short prayers you say when you don't have anything else and you figure the chances of their return was little to not at all. He gulped when he thought how he finally spotted the red smoke near the edge of a landing zone that looked almost the size of a postage stamp.

He remembered Face limping toward his chopper, B. A. on one side, Ray Brenner on the other, Hannibal laying down fire at the gooks at the tree-lined edge of the clearing.

 _But all my guys made it out 'live. All o' them . . . I didn' leave anyone b'hind . . ._

Well, technically _he_ didn't. One of the team's new recruits had walked right into a nest of NVA soldiers while on point. They had shot him . . . a spraying of AK-47 bullets that tore his entire midsection apart.

Hannibal told Murdock the guy died instantly but there had been that haunted look the remaining four team members had passed among themselves that told the pilot it wasn't as simple as that. He was sure the boy had died defending the others.

Despite the smoke, he snorted softly.

 _Jus' shows nothin' 'bout that mess over there was ever simple._

A noise brought him back to his present situation. When the smoke cleared . . . as it would soon do . . . Amos was going to kill him. No doubt in his mind about that.

But the Keeper holding the weapon yelled something in surprise. There was scuffling where Brother Amos had stood and the sound of the AK-47 going off, again accompanied by terrified screams and shouts both close and distant.

"Drop it, sucka, or I'll shove it down yer throat an' pull the trigger!"

Murdock breathed a sigh of relief. How the big Sergeant got from the driver's seat of the truck to Amos so quickly, he didn't know.

Maybe time had stood still? Maybe he had . . . no, he didn't want to think it . . . but maybe he had really been transported back in time . . .

Another familiar voice behind him chimed in, "I'd stay down, friend, if you know what's good for you."

The pilot clambered to his feet, swaying slightly with a sudden pounding headache, and turned around.

Brother Gregory lay on the ground, blinking up at Face. The Lieutenant handed the Keeper's confiscated pistol over to Murdock while training his own weapon on Gregory.

"Where's Hann'bal?" Murdock could barely get the words out. Frantically he looked around until he caught sight of Hannibal's motionless body.

"No," he rasped. "No . . . no . . . no . . . " He felt parts of his mind begin to unravel as he took in the Colonel's condition. He was back in the chopper, waiting for Hannibal to get close enough to grab hold of the rope ladder so he could lift off. But this time, the Colonel didn't make it. Shaking his head violently to rid it of the memory only worsened the pain inside.

Blood formed a stream down the side of Hannibal's face from a gash in his temple. More blood slowly soaked the upper left sleeve of the older man's black knit turtleneck.

Murdock willed his feet to carry him over to the Colonel's side. Kneeling beside his friend and team leader, he felt for a pulse at the side of Hannibal's throat. He didn't find one at first. Fresh panic rising inside him, he tried the Colonel's wrist.

He was so intent on his task he didn't hear anyone come toward him.

"Merle? What's happening? What's going on?"

Looking up, he saw Aaron beside him, the kid's eyes widening as he noticed the guns and B. A.'s menacing size.

The pilot shook his head, ignoring the pain inside, and renewed his search for a pulse. Finally finding one, he sat back on his legs and gave Aaron a quick scrutinizing look.

"You 'n' your stepmom okay?"

Aaron nodded. "Is he one of your friends?" The kid pointed at B. A.

"Yeah. He's one o' my friends." Murdock didn't know what else to say.

Face reminded him of their mission. Addressing Gregory and Amos, he said, "One of you two goons are gonna take us to see your Reverend Barger. He has some things that don't rightfully belong to him and we intend on taking them back to their owners."

Gregory fidgeted and gave Amos a nervous look.

Brother Amos scowled at Face. "Barger isn't here. And those things you say don't belong to the Keepers were surrendered willingly."

"Where is he, sucka!" B. A. twisted his captive's arm behind him.

Amos gritted his teeth and spat out a single word. "Dead."

"No! That ain' true! I listened t' the tapes. I saw a shadow b'hind the curtain," Murdock insisted. Getting to his feet, he rushed forward to stand face to face with the Keeper.

Amos smirked. "That shadow was one of my men. And those tapes were recorded a few years ago. There is no Reverend Barger. Not anymore. He would never have scammed these fools out of their possessions. It all would have been wasted."

"It ain' true! It can't be true! I heard him! The community . . . it can't live without 'im . . . " Murdock stared down at Hannibal, then at each of his team mates in turn.

Amos laughed. "Barger's dead. Has been for months. This community's been following a ghost." He tried once more to struggle against B. A.'s armlock and received a punch to the jaw that rendered him unconscious.

As Amos sagged to the ground, Face bound Gregory's hands and feet with the climbing rope he had left. B. A. did the same with the other Keeper.

Looking at his friend, Face saw indecision and confusion in Murdock's eyes as the words began to register in his mind.

"Do you know how to use this?" Face asked Aaron, searching his eyes for the answer as he held out his gun.

"I think so," the kid replied as he took the weapon from the conman. Taking a deep breath, he added, "I will if I have to."

"Good. Just make sure our friend here doesn't crawl away. He has some explaining to do to the authorities when they show up. B. A., stay with the kid and help him keep these two under wraps."

Murdock turned away and stumbled toward the Illumination Room, the building with the curtain. He faintly remembered comparing Reverend Barger to the Wizard of Oz or a bunch of smoke and mirrors.

 _But he's more 'n that. He's got the key t' peace. He can't be dead! He can't!_

He heard someone following him. As he reached the door, he kicked off his shoes. The person behind him placed a hand on his shoulder. The pressure wasn't enough to cause pain but it did momentarily ground him enough to glance back.

Face's frown turned into an artificial smile. "So is this where they keep all the books on what they've been skimming from these people?"

Murdock shook his head again. "No, not here . . . I gotta . . . I gotta see for myself . . . Amos's lyin' . . . he's gotta be . . . Reveren' Barger can't be dead . . . "

The smile vanished from the con man's face and he nodded warily. "Okay. But I'm going in with you."

The pilot opened the door and hesitated before entering the building. Quietly he ordered, "Take off yer shoes firs'. This's a holy place."


	20. Chapter 20

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 20

B. A. motioned for the kid . . . Aaron, he remembered Murdock called him . . . to stand back from where Hannibal lay to give him room.

He noted the kid looked shaky about handling a weapon. With the two Keepers securely bound, B. A. wasn't worried.

 _They ain't goin' nowhere._

He gave the Colonel a scrutinizing look. He needed to check out his wounds for himself.

 _Fool ain't thinkin' straight. Mighta missed somethin'._

With one eye on the Keeper Gregory and his gun ready, B. A. felt for Hannibal's pulse. He was relieved when the older man stirred under his touch and moaned.

"What happened?" He squinted at the Sergeant and then looked around. "Where's Face and Murdock?"

"Who's Murdock?" the kid asked, frowning.

Ignoring him, B. A. answered Hannibal. "Fool took off somewhere an' Faceman followed him. Murdock's actin' crazier 'n usual. That stuff on those tapes got to him, Colonel." The black man scowled in the direction his two team mates went.

"Who's Murdock?" the kid repeated, this time with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

The Colonel shifted to his right side and attempted to sit up. Putting out a hand to steady him, B. A. glanced over at their two captives.

He gestured with his gun hand at Amos. "Dude there says Barger's been dead for a few months. Don't know if they killed him 'r not. Didn't sound like he died of old age."

Gregory squirmed and sputtered out a protest. "He did it! I had no part in that! Amos made me go along with him after Barger was dead."

B. A. seared him with a silencing glare.

"Let me look at that shoulder, Colonel." He reached out only to have the older man pull away.

"It's just a through and through. Nothing that can't be treated and stitched up. There'll be time later to take care of it." He held out his hand. "Get me up on my feet. We have to find our client's papers and get out of here. Someone's bound to come to check out the explosions."

The Sergeant noted how much his CO swayed as he helped him to his feet.

"What about me?" Aaron interrupted B. A.'s thoughts with his anxious question. "Merle . . . Murdock said he'd help me escape."

Hannibal and B. A. looked at each other. They both knew the kid had to be a minor. The black man wasn't so sure he had a guardian on the outside willing to accept him if they should take him with them.

"Come on! I can't stay here! My stepmom doesn't really want me and I'm almost eighteen!" Aaron squared his shoulders and straightened to his full height.

B. A. almost smiled. He remembered a time more than a decade ago in Chicago when he faced down a neighborhood wannabe tough guy by doing the same thing.

 _Maybe the kid's as old as he says he is. His dad son't seem ta care. Maybe . . ._

Hannibal shook his head as if reading B. A.'s thoughts. "We can't take anyone with us. Sorry, kid. Your stepmother could call it kidnapping. No, the safest place for you to be is here with her."

The teen glared at him but said nothing.

B. A. grunted softly. He recognized that look of defiance.

 _Bet he's gonna bolt outta here soon as he can an' figure out a way ta survive on his own. Don't blame him._

Hannibal grimaced and placed a hand over the wound in his shoulder. Motioning to B. A., he muttered, "Go find Murdock and Face and get those papers we were sent to find. I'll talk with our friend here and see if we can't figure out a way to help him."

B. A. wasn't sure what the Colonel would be able to say that would convince the young man to stay with his stepmother but orders were orders. He watched as Hannibal drew his handgun from its holster to take over watching Gregory and Amos.

Knowing they had limited time left to complete their mission, B. A. hurried in the direction Face and Murdock had gone.

oooooo

Murdock entered the dimly lit room and sensed he was not alone. Letting his eyes adjust, he spotted a robed figure kneeling a few feet from the curtained off area.

Brother Luke had his head bowed and his hands clasped together in prayer. Even though his voice was barely above a mumble, the pilot heard the urgency in the tone.

Murdock quickly knelt beside him, forgetting that Face was somewhere behind him.

"Brother Luke . . . " Murdock stopped, not knowing what to say. Instead he placed a hand on the other man's shoulder to reassure him.

 _It's not 'nough. This community's this man's life 'n' look what we're doin' t' destroy it._

He felt a severe pang of guilt for his part in the mayhem.

"Brother Merle . . . we must pray that God defends us and turns our enemies away. Reverend Barger told me." Luke's voice was strained as he looked wide-eyed and confused at the pilot.

"Rev'rend Barger? But ain' he . . . " Murdock frowned. He stared at the curtain. A light in the background illuminated it. He spotted a shadowy figure moving around behind the fabric.

 _He's 'live! Rev'rend Barger's 'live! Don' this prove it?_

With new assurance, he muttered, "You're right. We gotta pray, Brother Luke."

 _But I know who's doin' all this. If I tell Brother Luke he'll know I'm with them. I won' be able t' be a part o' Rev'rend Barger's group. I won' have peace._

"I don't know who you think you're praying to . . . Luke, is it? . . . but your buddy out there said Barger's dead." That was Face.

 _Shit! I forgot he was b'hind me!_

Murdock glared back at his friend, then down at his feet.

 _He didn' even take off his shoes._

Brother Luke turned to look. As soon as he saw Face's black clothing and grease-paint smeared skin he stumbled to his feet and raised his hands in surrender.

 _Now, why scare 'im?_ Murdock rose from the kneeling mat to duplicate the Keeper's pose. "Leave us 'lone. These follks ain' doin' anythin' t' hurt nobody."

He begged his buddy with his eyes not to expose his true identity as he raised his hands as well.

To Luke, he muttered, "Don' worry, Brother. He's one o' the guys I knew back in Nam . . . he's from my past . . . "

"Why is he here? Did he come for you?" The Keeper gasped in surprise as Face strode purposefully toward the curtain.

But it wasn't Luke who moved first to protect the person behind it.

"No! Don'!" Murdock yelled in anguish as his friend reached for the fabric drape.

It took only a few seconds to follow the con man and grab his arm.

"Why? Why, buddy? What are you afraid of?" Face shook off Murdock's hold. For a moment the two friends stared at each other, Murdock searching for mercy and Face determined to reveal what was hidden behind the curtain.

"Don't you want to know for sure?" Face made his tone gentler like he was speaking to a child too innocent to face something that would hurt.

The pilot gulped a few times, tried to form words to explain and then shook his head as if unable to stop what was about to happen. As Face drew back the curtain, Murdock edged backward as if doing so would prevent the truth from being what it was.

Standing beside Brother Luke, the pilot squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against a tumult of voices that began to shout in his head. His world started to spin, spiraling into panic and confusion. Hannibal . . . Barger . . . this community . . . nothing was permanent . . . nothing was an anchor he could hold onto . . . were they all gone?

He barely heard the Keeper's surprised cry.

"Brother Francis! What . . . ?"


	21. Chapter 21

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 21

B. A. paused only briefly at the door, scowling at Murdock's shoes where he had kicked them off before entering.

 _Like he was goin' inta some kinda shrine 'r somethin'._

He heard an unfamiliar voice. "Brother Francis! What . . . ?"

Whoever Brother Francis was, it sounded like he wasn't expected to be in there.

Which meant Murdock and Face as well as the speaker might be in trouble.

That was all the Sergeant needed to understand. Breaking through the door and leaving it dangling crazily on one hinge, he rushed in.

Murdock stood motionless, his shoulders sagging, his back to the black man. His hands were firmly clamped over his ears and if B. A. could see them, he knew he would see the pilot's eyes were shut.

 _He ain't gonna be any help. Not if he's gettin' lost in his head._

A robed figure stood beside him, his hands shoulder height in surrender. The Keeper flinched as the hinge gave way and the door crashed to the concrete floor. But Murdock didn't react at all and that worried thought skittered through B. A.'s mind before being replaced with another greater concern.

Face was a few feet ahead of the two men. He had his hands up as well. The robed man in front of him held a handgun and it was pointed at the con man's head.

 _His hand ain't shakin'. Means he ain't an amateur. He ain't gonna back down._

"Tell your friend to drop his weapon," Brother Francis growled.

Face shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't think that's in our best interests for him to do that. Besides, we've already got your buddies Amos and Gregory. I'm sure they'll have a nice story to tell the authorities. Then they'll come looking for you."

The armed Keeper snorted but B. A. noted he shifted uneasily on his feet.

"You _do_ remember you're on top of a mountain, don't you? How do you think you're going to get away?" The Sergeant heard the satisfied smirk in his team mate's tone.

Francis narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled. "Turn around, smart guy."

As he wrapped one beefy arm around Face's neck, he squeezed so tightly the con man clawed at the arm that held him. Francis fixed B. A. with a cold look, one that was answered in turn with a fierce glare. "Drop your weapon. Do it now."

B. A. hesitated. Pressing the barrel of his pistol against his captive's temple, Francis sneered, "Do you really want to tempt me?" Face instantly stopped squirming and focused his gaze, not on B. A., but on Murdock.

As the Sergeant obeyed, bending and setting the gun on the floor, he glanced helplessly at Murdock, frozen in the same position he was in when B. A. came in. He didn't see anything different that should have caught Face's attention.

Then he heard it, a faint mumbling which only increased in volume as Murdock fell to his knees, his fists still tightly clapped over his ears.

oooooo

Murdock heard only fragments of the conversation around him. The voices in his head, as usual, were loud and demanding, each trying to dominate his head space.

He did the only thing he could do when they started arguing among themselves.

"Dừng! Bạn đang không có . . . dừng! bạn đang không có . . . dừng! bạn đang không có . . . "

Outshouting them was sometimes the only way to restore order to his brain.

In the POW camp, when he shouted his pleas in English, it would sometimes lead to another visit to the interrogation hut. There he would soon lose consciousness from being severely beaten or from being hung by the ropes cinching his elbows together. Despite the pain it was often better that way. In either case, the voices would stop.

At the VA hospital, an uncontrollable continuous outburst in any language brought orderlies and nurses who would sedate him. He didn't like the feelings he got from the meds used to control him but the voices would stop.

He didn't know why he chose to yell at them in Vietnamese this time. All he knew was they would understand his intent no matter what language he used.

He tried not to listen to what _they_ were shouting at _him_ but he couldn't help it. They had picked up on his fear of abandonment and taunted him with it.

 _Hannibal's hurt bad . . . he ain' gonna make it . . . Barger's dead . . . these people . . . they ain' gonna wan' you with 'em when they find out who you are . . . yer all 'lone . . . 'cept for us . . ._

The choir of voices laughed, an eerie sound that grew in volume and changed into a prolonged wail.

No longer able to outshout them, Murdock collapsed to his knees. Now he not only heard them. He felt their combined claws tear at the fabric of his sanity.

He didn't even know he was screaming.

oooooo

Face saw Brother Luke jerk when he heard the howl come from Murdock's throat. The Keeper's eyes widened as the pilot fell on his knees.

"Brother Merle!" he gasped. He dropped his hands and knelt beside Murdock, focusing his attention on comforting but not knowing how, the immediate threat forgotten.

The con man felt Francis remove the gun barrel from his head, saw him take aim at Murdock. Desperate to prevent him from firing and hitting his friend, Face gripped the man's wrist and twisted it up in the air.

The movement loosened the Keeper's hold around his throat. Jabbing an elbow hard in the man's ribs and pushing backward at the same time made Francis drop his hold entirely.

The Keeper fired a shot into the ceiling. The explosive sound turned Murdock's screams into uncontrollable sobs. It vaulted B. A. into action. Rushing the few feet to where Face wrestled for control of the gun, the Sergeant grabbed Francis by the front of his robe, jerking him away from the con man.

Landing one solid punch to the Keeper's jaw, B. A. let the man fall in a crumpled heap at his feet.

"I had it under control!" Face argued, brushing off the front of his black knit shirt and bending to remove the gun from the unconscious man's hand.

"Funny way o' showin' it, Faceman!" B. A. responded, nudging Francis with one foot to make sure he wasn't going to cause any more harm.

"Wh . . . who _are_ y . . . you people?" Brother Luke stammered, staring horrified at the gun in Face's hand.

Face nodded in the pilot's direction and gave B. A. a concerned look.

"Get him to the truck and keep him there! I'll have Brother What's-His-Name here take me to the building where they keep the deeds and other stolen property." The con man noted the shocked look the Keeper gave him from where he held . . . or more likely kept Murdock from collapsing . . . in a brotherly comforting sideways embrace. "That is, _if_ he knows anything about that."

Luke shook his head. "I know where Brother Amos did the financial business for the community. Will that help?"

"That should do it," Face answered grimly.

"But Brother Merle . . . "

" . . . Is coming with us. We're his friends. We know how to take care of him," the con man said, his gaze fixed on his friend who sagged against B. A. as he helped him out of the building.


	22. Chapter 22

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 22

Murdock could see only the gauntlet of enemies from his past on either side of him as he stumbled along toward their destination. Someone held him up . . .

 _. . . prob'ly th' only thin' keepin' me from fallin' flat on my face in the dirt . . ._

"Where you b'long, boy!" his father jeered as he drifted along beside him. Murdock twisted his head to look at him.

His Pa hadn't changed. Still unshaven, leering at him with red-rimmed eyes as if he had just come from an all-nighter at a bar. He knew he couldn't form the words to say anything in response. It wouldn't have changed his Pa's feelings toward him.

He tripped and fell heavily against the person helping him.

"Stay with me, fool. We're just about there," his guide growled.

He recognized that voice and felt a glimmer of hope inside him. If B. A. couldn't get him through this gathering of demons, no one could. Gripping the waist of the person beside him, he regained some of his balance and staggered along.

Tommy Angel taunted him from a safe place a few feet away. "Why'd you let your friends go through so much in that camp? You knew things. You could have saved your friends a lot of pain if you had just told Ferret what he needed to know."

Murdock knew . . . _knew_ . . . that Tommy Angel hadn't kept _any_ confidential intel back from the enemy.

 _I had t' do what I did. But you . . . ya sold us all out . . ._

Tommy gave him one last smirk as they passed. "Was it worth it? All that suffering?"

His Pa took up the taunt. "So ya let yer friends go through hell fer a buncha worthless secrets?" He shook his head in derision. "Why'd they even _bother_ with ya after Nam?"

 _B'cause . . . b'cause . . ._

Truth was, he didn't know right now _why_ they didn't leave him to die alone in that jungle after they escaped.

More voices called out to him, all of them accusing . . . mocking . . .

So many others . . . some, he couldn't even remember their names . . .

 _Leave me 'lone!_

A large mass loomed up in front of him and the person half-carrying him.

The door opened. Ferret, the NVA interrogator, greeted him.

 _Yer . . . yer dead . . ._

Blood spurted from the slash across his throat that Murdock had inflicted with the guard's own knife.

The pilot took two faltering steps backward, seeing only the interrogator and the interrogation hut before him.

Strong arms prevented him from going farther and began to push him toward the door once more.

Turning quickly, he drove his right fist hard into his captor's chin. Pulling his arm back to land another blow, he felt someone grab it before he could strike again.

"Get in the truck, fool!"

 _T . . . truck?_

He blinked several times but nothing erased the image of the door of the interrogation hut. He couldn't lift either arm to brace or defend himself and realized his captor held him so tightly escape was impossible.

"No! No!" Flailing against the person who drove him against his wishes toward the leering NVA guard, he screamed out the word several times.

But it was no use. Ferret's glittering hate-filled eyes and evil grin were all Murdock could see now.

oooooo

The fist to his chin only strengthened B. A.'s resolve to get Murdock into the truck. He knew the crazy man didn't know what he was doing.

"I don't know what's got inta ya but we ain't gonna leave ya here. Get . . . in . . . the . . . truck . . . fool!" The Sergeant gripped him tighter, pinning the pilot's arms to his sides and almost lifting him off his feet.

For a moment, Murdock's screams of "No!" brought B. A.'s memories of the POW camp back into his mind as if they had happened just last week. When the pilot was stuck in the past the only way to deal with it was to talk him through it or . . .

 _He's gotta get in that truck an' we gotta get outta here. Sorry, fool . . ._

B. A. suddenly released his captive, swung him around to face him and punched him . . . hard.

The black man grimaced as Murdock's head snapped back and hit the side of the truck with a dull thud. He crumpled to the ground at B. A.'s feet.

Sighing heavily, the Sergeant bent at the knees, lifted the unconscious pilot across his shoulder and gently laid him in the rear of the heavy truck. Anxiously counting the seconds that were rushing by, he waited for Face and Hannibal to join them and silently apologized to his team mate.

oooooo

Face watched Brother Luke as he unlocked the door to the building where the financial records were kept.

"If property belonging to my fellow Keepers has been mishandled . . . " the Keeper started, a hint of frustrated anger in his voice.

"Not mishandled . . . stolen. Some of them I'm sure gave it up willingly and never questioned what was done with it." Face motioned with the gun for Luke to enter the building first. "But our client escaped from here and he wants his property back."

"Escaped?" A frown creased the other man's brow. "Why would anyone want to escape? Even if Reverend Barger is dead . . . "

" . . . was murdered more likely," Face interrupted.

Luke gasped and gave him an incredulous stare. "Murdered? But why?"

"The person who handled the finances . . . "

Absently, Luke supplied the name. "Brother Amos." He seemed to still be processing the information that Barger was dead.

"Yeah, well, your Brother Amos was using the proceeds from the sale of properties and other possessions for his own little retirement package. His two buddies probably made sure no one who suspected anything hung around for long. And they were well paid for their services." Face spied a set of filing cabinets and motioned for Luke to lead the way to them.

As they went, the Keeper protested. "You know, you don't have to threaten me with that gun. I'm not interested in trying anything to escape. And if you have a client who wants his property back, you should take it to him."

Face considered the man for a few seconds before lowering the weapon and tucking it in his shoulder holster.

"The loss of Reverend Barger is . . . I just don't know what to say. He mentored me when I was lost and trying drugs and everything else to find meaning to my life. Brother Amos . . . " He said the name with a lot more rancor than Face thought the man was capable of. ". . . won his confidence and slowly isolated Reverend Barger from the rest of the community. I should have known what was happening. I should have _known_." The last sentence was said with such a heavy tone of regret and sorrow that Face felt sorry for Luke.

"You could carry on. You still have the principles the man stood for," he offered.

Luke shook his head, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Only by agreement of everyone in the community. Those who don't want to continue . . . I don't know. Will there be enough of us left?"

The con man didn't know what to say to him. Eyeing the file cabinet, he reached for the drawer labeled 'S-T.' It didn't budge.

The Keeper frowned. "Locked., " he murmured, stating the obvious. His eyes widened when the con man removed a lock-pick set from his pants pocket and began to work on the drawer.

"Who _are_ you people?"


	23. Chapter 23

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 23

As Face worked the lock on the filing cabinet drawer, he held back a smug smile. Keeper Luke seemed in awe of what he was seeing.

 _Should I tell him who we are . . . who Murdock really is . . . or should I let him continue to wonder?_

The drawer lock clicked and he slid it open. The whole process took very little time. Leafing through the files, Face was impressed with how many names, how many property transfers and how much money the trio of fake Keepers must have accumulated over the years.

 _I wonder what they did with all that money? They couldn't live here in luxury without attracting attention to themselves._

He decided that would be a matter for Luke, the other Keepers and the authorities to figure out.

 _They probably hid the money in some bank accounts just waiting for the moment they felt they had enough to get out of here._

He felt sorry for these people. They were so naive.

 _I could pass myself off as a documentary movie producer and get them to tell me just about anything._

He filed through the tabs until he found Schreiker's name. Looking through, he found bills of sale but no deeds or titles.

 _Our client isn't going to like this very much. At least we did our part. We found out what happened to his property._

He couldn't feel any sympathy for Schreiker, abandoning his wife and son like he did. They would bring the folder back to their client and be done with the case.

 _He probably won't pay us but at least now these people will know they were being defrauded by those three._

"Look," he said, shutting the drawer and turning to the Keeper who stood to his left. "You need to decide what to do from here. I think you would have a good case against Amos and his two friends if you pursued it. You have all the evidence right here." He patted the filing cabinet. "But if Schreiker's file is any indication, any assets your community thought they may have had are long gone."

Brother Luke swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "We'll start over . . . or try to . . . " He narrowed his eyes as he thought aloud. "Like you said, we have Reverend Barger's teaching and principles . . . we can become more self-sustaining . . . and what little we need can be supplied by donations . . . maybe selling homecrafted goods . . . "

Face smiled and patted Luke on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. I've got to go."

"And what about Brother Merle? You'll take care of him . . . help him?" Luke followed the con man outside.

"We'll do the best we can. He needs people who understand what's going on with him."

"And you and your friends do?" Luke's tone was more concerned than doubting. He kept pace with the other man as he walked toward the truck.

"We do our best . . . " Face hesitated.

 _Should I tell him Brother Merle has a room in the VA psych ward waiting for him if we find out it's too much for us to handle?_

He realized how harsh that sounded and simply said, "He responds to us. We've all been through it."

 _But not quite as much as my buddy has._

Brother Luke fell behind as Face quickened his stride, looking at the truck, noting that B. A. was _not_ waiting in the driver's seat like he should have been. The truck wasn't even running.

 _Something's wrong._

oooooo

As he floated in darkness, Murdock heard in his mind the litany he had repeated to become a Keeper. But Barger was dead. For all he knew, Hannibal was hurt badly. Rachel, the young woman who took an interest in him, was injured. His team had set the deadly explosives that hurt her, an innocent.

 _As long's I live, as long's I breathe, I won't forsake my brothers 'n' sisters. I'll live in harm'ny with all . . ._ _As long's I live, as long's I breathe, I won't forsake my brothers 'n' sisters. I'll live in harm'ny with all . . ._

The accusing voices of his father and other bullies in his past reminded him of just how alone he really was right now. They tried to drown out the words he clung to.

 _As long's I live, as long's I breathe, I won't forsake my brothers 'n' sisters. I'll live in harm'ny with all . . ._ _As long's I live, as long's I breathe, I won't forsake my brothers 'n' sisters. I'll live in harm'ny with all . . ._

Hollis Latreque, a classmate bully from his past, sneered in his head, "So how's what your friends did part o' that thing yer sayin'? Are they livin' in harm'ny? Huh? Words're jus' words 'til ya live 'em out."

A dull ache in the back of his head and along his jaw jockeyed for his attention.

". . . Didn' mean it. Ya know I didn'. I had ta get ya in the truck, fool." That was B. A. His voice sounded remarkably soft and out of character.

 _Huh. A'most sounds like th' Big Guy's sayin' he's sorry . . . for somethin' . . . As long's I live, as long's I breathe, I won't forsake my brothers 'n' sisters. I'll live in harm'ny with all . . ._

Was Hollis right? His team came together over there, in war-torn Vietnam, and stayed together here as a paramilitary unit. Sure, they kept a rule never to kill someone when another method would work to protect and help their clients. But they still used weapons when needed.

"Yeah, think 'bout it. That ain' livin' in harm'ny, what you guys do," Hollis mocked.

He wanted to shout "Shut up!" but couldn't make the words come out. And B. A. was mildly shaking him, getting his attention. "Wake up, Murdock. I didn't hit ya _that_ hard, did I?"

 _He hit me? What'd I do now?_

He focused on his team mate's voice and gradually, one by one, most of the other voices faded. They were still there but they became a vague murmur, the words difficult to understand once he stopped listening to them.

He wondered if he would ever be completely rid of all of the voices that seemed to have a resting place inside him. Reverend Barger had promised their way of life would bring his mind peace.

 _He was right . . . I gotta help 'em rebuild . . . I'm a Keeper now . . ._

Slowly he became aware that he was lying on his back. His jaw and head throbbed more intensely as his consciousness returned. Gravel crunched under approaching footsteps. 

"What's wrong? What's going on, B. A.?" It sounded like Face, a sense of urgency edging his tone.

"I had ta do it, Faceman. He wasn't gonna get in."

"He's going to have a really bad headache when he wakes up. I _hope_ you didn't break his jaw, too," the con man continued angrily.

 _Yeah, I hope not either._

"I held back."

 _Sure don' feel like it._

"We've got to go. The fire those explosives caused and the gunshots are going to bring attention our way." And that was Hannibal, sounding a bit shaky but in charge of the situation. "Face, take over. B. A., get us out of here. Now!"

 _Outta here . . . outta here . . . but I'm a Keeper now. Brother Luke'll need me t' help 'em rebuild._

"Hang in there, fool." He felt a large meaty hand pat his shoulder. There was movement around him as B. A. left and Hannibal and Face took places on either side of him. He redoubled his efforts to wake up completely and took in a big shuddering breath as the image of the curtained area where the fake Reverend Barger flashed in his mind.

Moments later he heard a large truck engine roar to life and the floor underneath him vibrated with the vehicle's power. He felt the truck lurch forward and pick up speed.

Murdock tried to form words but could get out only a whisper. He forced his eyes open and stared directly up at Hannibal. Struggling to sit up, each jolt the truck made, each movement he made, sent another wave of pain through the back of his head. "I took th' pledge. I'm a Keeper now. I can't go. They _need_ me."

"Captain, you can't stay. And we won't leave you behind." Hannibal firmly pressed his shoulders down and nodded at Face to help.

"You don't belong with them, buddy," the con man murmured. "You don't belong there. _We're_ your friends, not them."

Murdock felt the fabric of his mind tear a little at that.

 _Where d' I b'long? Where?_

He only vaguely heard sirens approach, pass and fade as his inner voices returned to laugh and jeer.


	24. Chapter 24

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 24

Murdock was deathly silent on the trip to the motel. The farther they got away from the compound, the less the pilot struggled until finally he didn't move at all. He stared so vacantly into the sky above as B. A. drove the pickup back to Palmdale that Hannibal and Face exchanged worried glances.

"Hey, buddy. They'll be alright. Luke isn't going to let the group go without someone to guide them. He said they had Barger's words to show them the way even if they didn't have Barger himself." Face watched desperately for some sign Murdock heard him.

A pained frown appeared on the pilot's face but he didn't make a sound.

Hannibal dug a small penlight out of his pocket and flashed it briefly into each of Murdock's eyes. When Face gave him a questioning look, the older man shook his head and explained. "I'm just checking that B. A. didn't give him a concussion."

"And?"

"He isn't reacting to the light like he's sensitive to it." The Colonel passed his hand in front of Murdock's blank gaze. "He isn't vomiting. We aren't having trouble keeping him awake now that he's conscious." He shook his head again.

"So why is he not responding to us?" The younger man scanned his friend's face, anxious for any movement that showed Murdock was still aware of them. There was none.

"I don't know. We'll watch him for three or four hours but right now I don't think B. A. did more than give him a headache and a bruised jaw." Hannibal slipped the light back in his pocket and sagged against the side of the pickup, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching the gunshot wound for a moment.

"Maybe you should be laying down, too, Colonel," Face suggested.

"When we get to the motel, I will." Hannibal forced his eyes open again to stare down his second-in-command.

The con man shrugged, knowing no matter what he said, he would not convince Hannibal to relax or subject himself to an evaluation of his shoulder or head wounds until then.

"You have Schreiker's file?" the Colonel asked.

"Right here." Face handed the manila folder to his leader and watched as the other man flipped it open to scan the contents. "They had an entire filing cabinet full of these. The drawer holding this one was locked." He smiled at Hannibal. "But there isn't a lock anywhere that I can't get around. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Amos and his buddies were fleecing the flock for quite some time, maybe even before they killed Barger."

Both of them heard the hitched breath Murdock took when the con man mentioned Barger's fate.

Hannibal looked up from the file, closing it and setting it aside, its contents temporarily forgotten. "Captain?"

"Where's Aaron? Where's th' kid?" Murdock rasped. He turned his gaze on Hannibal. Finding no immediate response he grasped Face's arm so tightly, the con man grimaced. "Where _is_ he?" he repeated.

Relieved the pilot was talking at last, the Colonel answered. "He'll be fine. He stayed behind with the group."

Face flashed a warning glance at the other man. Reaching out, touching his friend on the shoulder in an attempt to release his panicked grip on his forearm, he explained. "If Aaron disappeared with us, his stepmother could accuse us of kidnapping. You know that. And the life of a fugitive isn't a life for him. Luke will make sure he stays out of trouble."

"I promised 'im. I _promised!_ "

"But _we_ didn't, Captain, and that's final!" Hannibal snapped. His tone was so harsh that both Face and Murdock flinched. The con man recognized that the older man had mixed feelings about leaving Aaron behind but Murdock didn't realize it from the stunned look he gave the Colonel. For a second the pilot seemed to want to continue his protest. Just one more pleading look at Hannibal's unyielding expression told him it was useless.

Redirecting his gaze to the starry skies above, he let out a tired breath.

"Then I failed 'im. He wanted out." With that, Murdock closed his eyes in resignation and stopped arguing.

oooooo

 _O' course they don' understan' why this's 'portant t' me. They didn' promise. I did._

He wondered as he listened to Face and Hannibal talk about the contents of the file if either of them would have promised Aaron his freedom.

 _Prob'ly not. They wouldn'ta trusted Aaron t' help 'em._

His thoughts drifted to bits and pieces of Reverend Barger's teaching, the parts that had appealed to his fractured mind.

 _It is for the benefit of the group that kindness, gentleness, love, be the catalyst for every action a Keeper takes in his daily walk. Serenity and peace is our ultimate goal, Heaven our final home. Are you prepared to join us in our journey?_

The question overwhelmed all of the voices murmuring in the background, both in his head and externally. He didn't care anymore whether Schreiker got his possessions back. The mission didn't matter. He had been forced by the men he had served with, the men who called themselves his friends, to abandon the Keepers.

 _Are you prepared to join us in our journey?_

He silently cursed his photographic memory for letting those words echo in his brain. That question didn't matter anymore. The decision had been made for him.

Aaron didn't have a choice either. The decision had been made for him as well.

Without the peace offered by the teachings, Murdock knew he would continue to be plagued by the voices, nightmares and flashbacks.

 _It ain' fair._

That statement continued to plague him until he sensed the truck stop.

Face shook him gently by the shoulder. "Time to get up. We're at the motel."

When he opened his eyes, he saw Hannibal was already unlocking the door to one of the rooms. The con man got out of the bed of the truck and looked at him expectantly. Holding out his hand he asked, "Do you need help, buddy?"

Murdock saw no other options but to get out too. B. A., noticing the pilot's reluctance to leave the security of the back of the pickup, was on his way toward the two men, ready to help Face wrestle him into the room, if need be.

 _Ain' no use t' resist. They'll bring me back t' th' VA soon, mission's over . . ._

Sliding out of the truck bed, he directed his gaze to the ground and trudged to the open motel room door.

 _. . . 'n' then we'll see 'bout my choices._


	25. Chapter 25

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 25

During the next few hours, Murdock sat on the bed with his knees drawn up, his gaze focused on one dark rose flower printed on the bedspread. He held a towel-wrapped plastic bag of ice to his swollen lower jaw. Hannibal had accompanied B. A. on his trip to drop off the truck and retrieve the van. On the way back, they stopped to get a pizza, a six-pack of beer, a gallon of milk and a small bag of ice.

After B. A. prepared and handed him the ice pack with a surprisingly contrite mumbled apology, the others immediately sat down at the table to devour the pizza and talk about the mission. He sensed each of the three men glance over at him every so often. Though none of them said anything, he knew they were all judging his mental frame of mind and worrying over his silence.

They were discussing how best to deliver the file folder to Schreiker. None of them seemed willing to trust their client after learning he had abandoned his son and wife at the compound.

As far as Murdock was concerned, they could burn the file. Aaron had every right to be angry. Schreiker had deserted his son without caring about his safe return. A man who did something like that _deserved_ to have everything taken away from him.

But maybe the kid was lucky. The pilot wished his own alcoholic father had dropped out of his life after Murdock's mother died and his grandparents took over as parents. Harley McKeever, his abusive father, somehow managed to retain parental visiting rights.

 _But a visit from Pa meant I was gonna get beat up. Never so much so's anyone could see. Not 'til I grew up 'nough t' fight back._

He didn't want to think about his Pa. Those reminders allowed his Pa's voice to grow stronger in his mind. Reverend Barger with his kind and gentle voice and reasonable teachings seemed like he would have made a great father.

Murdock concentrated on some of the words Barger had said on the tapes, knowing that those words brought peace to his confused and disturbed thoughts.

 _Serenity and peace is our ultimate goal, Heaven our final home. Are you prepared to join us in our journey?_

The voices argued with Reverend Barger's voice, jeering at his teaching, mocking Murdock for every failure he had experienced during his life.

 _Ya weren' fast 'nough t' dodge that missile over in Nam, boy. Were ya? 'N' how many men did ya kill when that chopper went down b'cause o' your mistake?_

"Two," Murdock whispered under his breath. He heard one of the guys push back his chair from the table where they ate.

 _'N' wasn' that th' same crash that got all o' ya caught 'n' put in that POW camp?_

"Yes," Murdock whispered again, his breath beginning to grow shallow and jagged. He struggled to think of the Keeper's compound but all he could see in his mind was the camp with its stinking latrine pit, bamboo huts and dreaded interrogation building.

Before he realized it, Face came to stand beside him, a paper towel with a slice of pizza on it in his hand. With his other hand, he touched the pilot's shoulder, careful not to seem intimidating. "Hey buddy. Are you _sure_ you don't want to eat anything? After those hours in that isolation hut, I'd think you'd be really hungry."

 _Leave me 'lone!_

Hoping he hadn't said that out loud, Murdock shook his head vigorously. The movement made him nauseous and dizzy, an after effect of receiving one of B. A.'s punches.

"No. 'M okay," he mumbled, relieved when Face paused for a moment and then headed back to the table.

"Suit yourself. We can save you a slice." Face's voice sounded uncertain and worried. Murdock refused to look up to see the con man's expression as he shook his head again.

He heard the guys quietly talking about something and knew instinctively he was the topic of discussion.

He had to do something, anything, to drown out the voices, to avoid his friends' scrutinizing glances.

Abandoning the ice pack on the bed, he got to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom, not looking in his friends' direction.

"You okay, fool?" B. A. rumbled. The chair scraped back across the floor.

He barely heard the question above the triumphant jeers of his internal voices. "Gonna take a shower," Murdock managed to rasp and then quickly closed and locked the door behind him.

Leaning over the sink, gripping the edges tightly with both hands and closing his eyes, he tried to control his breathing.

 _Th' shower . . . I said I was gonna take a shower . . . if they don' hear th' water runnin' . . ._

He managed to turn on one of the bathtub taps, not seeing clearly which one he turned on, then returned to the sink to splash water over his face, hoping to get control over his mind.

A vaguely familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. _Nước sẽ không làm sạch máu từ bàn tay của bạn._ (Water will not clean the blood from your hand.)

Startled, Murdock looked up with wide eyes into the mirror . . . and directly into the reflection of the NVA officer he had killed on their forced march from one POW camp to another. Ferret's throat gaped open, blood spurting in time with the guard's heartbeat. The man raised a bamboo switch in one hand and swung it viciously at the pilot's back.

He flinched, closing his eyes, waiting for the sting of the blow, and cautiously opened his eyes when it didn't come. Ferret grimaced at him, still brandishing the switch.

Then the image disappeared and Murdock stared at his own reflection. Blood streaked his face and dripped from his lower jaw to the sink. Clots of blood were in his hair. His shirt was soaked dull red, the thick substance glistening under the fluorescent light.

 _No, no, no . . ._

He felt something crawling just under the surface of his skin and another voice cackled, "You'll never be rid o' us now, boy." It was his Pa.

The voices had become living things, parasites invading his body through his bloodstream.

Pushing up his sleeves and clawing at the skin of his forearms, he scratched to get at the blood vessels in a futile attempt to find relief. Tiny drops of his own blood dripped onto the white porcelain. He stifled the scream of pain and horror that wanted to erupt from him, knowing that the guys would find a way through the locked door to check on him.

He didn't want them to find him covered in blood. They would have questions he couldn't answer. Remembering the shower he said he was going to take, he tore at the robe he still wore from the compound to get it off.

 _All that water'll wash off th' blood . . . wash me clean . . . if only they woulda left me with Brother Luke 'n' th' other Keepers . . . there woulda been no more mem'ries . . ._

Stepping into the tub and under the showerhead, he felt the first icy water pellets hit the top of his head, course down the contours of his face and on down his torso to the drain. He shoved the shower curtain across the rod to hide the mirror above the sink from his view.

The words to a song came to his mind. He didn't remember where he heard it before but it seemed right for the situation.

Knowing the song might bring the guys into the bathroom, he muttered the words instead. He focused on the words and the cleansing cold spray as it silenced the voices. Over and over again he murmured the words, finding a kind of numbing peace as he did.

 _If the rain comes, they run and hide their heads.  
They might as well be dead._

Slowly he raised his hands to the spray, rubbing them roughly together, seeing blood no matter how hard he scrubbed them. A sob escaped his mouth as he began to shiver slightly with the cold.

 _I can't stop now, I gotta get clean, I gotta get clean . . ._

Dunking his head under the water, he squeezed his eyes shut as one sob after another convulsed his body.

 _Nước sẽ không làm sạch máu từ bàn tay của bạn._ (Water will not clean the blood from your hand.) He didn't know if he was hearing the voice in his mind or if it came from outside the curtain. It didn't matter. Ferret and the other demons from his past were always with him.

He let the icy water pelt his face with its force and continued to rub his hands together.

 _Don' matter how long it takes . . . I gotta get clean . . . I gotta be clean . . ._

When the leaves rustled beside him and the vegetation parted, he didn't know how long he had been under the waterfall in the jungle washing away Ferret's blood from his body.

He heard someone speak to him. It sounded like Hannibal but he couldn't focus on what he was being told. If he stopped saying the words to the song, the bad voices would return and maybe he would lose his mind completely.

Suddenly, the water stopped hitting his body. He raised his face and felt no spray. The scream he had held in so well when the water was still pelting him forced its way to his mouth. It started softly. He couldn't control its volume.

 _I'm not clean yet . . ._

"Of course ya ain'," his Pa jeered. "Ya killed a man. Ya won' _ever_ get that blood off ya."

He howled with all the anguish he felt deep inside his heart and raised his hands to his face, ready to claw at his skin, to frighten his Pa into retreating back into the locked recesses of his mind.

Before he could do that, someone or something grabbed him and held his arms tightly to his sides. At the same time he felt a hand clamp over his mouth.

He struggled but the person holding him was determined to prevent him from moving and screaming.

For what seemed like a very long time, he fought against the arms that dragged him from the waterfall and forced him to the ground. Other hands stripped him of his wet clothing and wrestled him into dry clothes. He stared wildly into the faces of the enemy and felt something sharp poke his arm.

Within seconds he felt terribly sleepy. His muscles no longer responded to his brain's commands. The enemy soldiers lifted him to his feet and half-carried him across the ground to the interrogation hut.


	26. Chapter 26

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

AN: I know I'm using the name Donna Sullivan in part of this story, notably as Murdock's mind is becoming more shattered. Hannibal would use that name in speaking with Doctor Richter since in my series of stories Daniela used that name as an alias to keep from being found by her family ('The Hospital Nurse' story). Murdock and the team knew her real name but those she worked with might not.

Chapter 26

Face climbed in the rear passenger's area of the van first and helped B. A. get Murdock belted in to the con man's usual seat by the door. It would be easier to get him out of the van and into Doctor Richter's care once they arrived at the VA hospital. The con man waited, anger over his own inability to foresee the end result of his friend's part of the mission in the forefront of his mind.

 _I just hope Hannibal can get Murdock's doctor this time of night and not the night nurse and orderly._

Murdock might see anyone but Richter as an enemy. Even if he was groggy with the sedative he would fight back against anyone he didn't fully trust. Face realized Murdock probably didn't trust any of his own team at this point.

 _It would explain why he fought so hard to avoid being moved from that shower._

The Captain had spent enough time with his own shrink that he should recognize him and maybe go with him willingly.

 _At least I hope so._

The dome light above made the huge ugly bruise along the pilot's jaw stand out in sharp contrast to the pallor of his face and the Lieutenant grimaced. Before he could stop himself, he muttered, "Man, B. A.!"

Seeing it, B. A. flinched, took a step back and mumbled, "I didn't mean ta hit the fool so hard."

Hannibal patted the big man on the shoulder, shooting his Lieutenant a warning look. "We know that."

"He was actin' like he didn't even know who I was. He took a swing at me." B. A. scowled at the memory.

The Colonel might have smirked at the thought of Murdock trying to hit the Sergeant if not for the seriousness of the situation. "Did he connect?"

"Rabbit punch ta the chin." The black man shrugged as if it was nothing but a mosquito bite. "He was actin' like there was somethin' in the truck he was 'fraid of. Didn't make no sense the way he was screamin' an' fightin'," B. A. muttered, staring at Murdock with as close of an expression of regret and worry as Face had ever seen. "I didn't mean ta hit 'im _that_ hard."

The con man moved to the seat nearest the window. He turned sideways to keep watch over his best friend, studiously ignoring both of the other men.

Hannibal motioned with his head for B. A. to get in the driver's seat, then turned his attention back to Murdock and Face. "I didn't give him a big dose, just enough so we could handle him."

"He hates being put under," the con man answered bitterly. "You know that."

"It was for his own good. You saw how he was going to gouge his face with his nails. What else were we supposed to do?" The Colonel noticed someone peeking out of a window at them and abruptly ended the discussion. Moving to the passenger's side door, he got in. "Let's go, B. A.," he ordered.

Face quickly slid the side door shut and settled back to guard his best friend against any nightmares that would drive him closer to the brink of madness.

 _If he isn't already past that point._

oooooo

Richter was finishing some work on one of his patient's case files when the call came in on his office phone. Frowning, he wondered who would be calling this time of night.

He almost didn't answer it.

 _No one knows if I'm here or at home. And if I don't answer it, I can get home faster._

But then curiosity got the better of him. That and a sense of duty and responsibility. He knew there was one patient under his care who was not at the hospital.

 _Maybe this is Murdock checking in. Letting me know he and Billy are fine._

The thought of Murdock's imaginary dog made the doctor chuckle. It was one of the pilot's more lasting harmless delusions.

Still smiling, he picked up the receiver and glanced at another page of the file in front of him while he responded, "Hello. Doctor Richter here. How can I help you?"

"Richter, this is Smith."

The familiar voice made the doctor sit up in his seat and push away the file. For Hannibal Smith to call meant only one thing. Something had happened to Captain Murdock.

"What can I do for you?" As he asked the question, he felt his gut tighten with concern.

Murdock was a bit of a mystery. He felt in the last few years he had only begun to peel back the layers of coping mechanisms and shrouds hiding the psychological injuries the pilot daily carried with him.

Richter honestly liked the veteran Captain. Among all of his current patients, he enjoyed his sessions with Murdock most. He never knew what new innocent obsession or delusion the man would bring to his therapy time.

And while much of what Murdock said and did was put on to ensure he continued to have a place to stay at the VA hospital, Richter knew some, perhaps more than some, of it was a result of the buried memories and trauma of whatever the man had suffered during his childhood and later in Nam.

He wanted to help Murdock adjust so he could eventually function with a minimum of medication out in society. But he had many more layers of pain and denial to gently probe at and reveal before that could happen.

 _If something happened to him, I'd never forgive myself for allowing him to go with his team mates this time._

There was a long pause at the other end.

Something was _very_ wrong for the A-team leader to be at a loss for words.

"Is Captain Murdock injured?" Richter finally asked, trying to keep his voice level and calm.

Another pause, then, "Not physically except for a bump to his head. I didn't see signs of a concussion."

 _Then why . . ._

There could be only one answer to that question. "Maybe you'd better bring him here. I'll meet you near the entrance."

The other man sighed as if relieved Richter had suggested that without too much having to be said.

"We're on our way. But Doc . . . ?"

"Yes?"

"It would be better if you met us without anyone else with you. Except that nurse Donna Sullivan. He trusts the two of you. Will you do that?"

Richter didn't have to think at all about his answer. "If I helped Colonel Roderick Decker to capture the three of you by letting anyone else know you're coming, Captain Murdock wouldn't trust me anymore, would he? Donna Sullivan isn't working tonight though. I'll have to meet you alone." He hesitated. "Will I need a sedative or restraints?"

"Right now he doesn't pose a threat to anyone. We're just a few minutes out. Just meet us."

There was a click, then a hum indicating the conversation was over.

 _Right now?_

For Smith to admit that not even Lieutenant Peck could help Murdock out of whatever psychotic episode he was having meant it was bad.

 _Damn Smith!_

Frowning, Doctor Richter placed an empty syringe and a vial of haloperidol in his jacket pocket just in case and hurried out of his office to the elevator.

oooooo

Murdock groaned softly as he tried to open his eyes. The back of his head pounded with a fierce headache.

He tried to lie down but found a strap held him from moving up from his seated position. At first, the voices in his head told him he was in the interrogation hut.

 _They didn' use th' ropes this time. I don' smell any o' th' piss 'r other smells either. Where am I?_

Until he could figure it out . . . and the jackhammer and mocking voices in his head was making _that_ very difficult . . . he would feign semi-consciousness.

He heard a voice that sounded like Hannibal but it was too muffled for him to make sense of it. It sounded like he was very far away.

The strap holding him upright didn't seem to do much except prevent his upper body from falling forward off the seat. His arms weren't restrained. At any moment, if the enemy should come too close, he could get his unfortunate victim in a chokehold and use him as a shield against anyone attacking him.

 _Charlie wouldn' be that stupid, leavin' my arms free t' move . . . so this can't be th' interrogation hut. But I can't be stupid either. If th' enemy's close, I gotta be ready._

The restraint seemed to only encircle his pelvis. It seemed a little like the type of straps the doctors used on him when they administered EST. That was when he first arrived at the VA hospital more than five years ago. When Doctor Richter became his primary doctor, the electroshock therapy was quickly discontinued. The doctor wouldn't use that type of measure unless there was no other way to control an episode.

It was one of the reasons he trusted Richter more than any other VA doctor.

There weren't any of the other restraining straps that they normally would use if he were about to receive EST. And there was a sensation of muted lights flashing by as if he was moving quickly along a lighted path.

 _But if I ain' in Nam 'n' I ain' at th' VA hospital where am I?_

He wracked his memory for the answer. He remembered something about a group of buildings atop a mountain and a room that vaguely reminded him of the room where the Great Oz spoke to Dorothy and her companions. Words swirled in his head and he knew that if he could reach inside his brain and rearrange them they would make sense.

 _Are you prepared to join us in our journey . . . get clean . . . gotta get clean firs' . . . clean . . . Are you prepared . . . are you . . . what journey . . . WHAT JOURNEY?_

The multiple voices in his head laughed at his confusion. He whined without meaning to and immediately someone touched his shoulder.

"Just rest now, buddy. You're safe. Do you hear me? You're safe."

The voice was familiar but he knew the message was wrong. He wasn't safe. He couldn't rest.

 _I'm s'posed t' be somewhere else, doin' somethin' else . . . but what?_

And a quiet peaceful voice in his mind answered, "Are you prepared to join us in our journey?"

Maybe Doctor Richter could help him remember what that question meant.

He managed to mumble, his words slurred from the sedative, "Doc . . . Ah need mah doctor . . . "

Someone answered but he couldn't hear the response. His enemies' voices shouted at him again. He raised his hands to clutch at his head only to have them forced back down to his sides. More calming words were directed to him, this time laced with worry.

He whined, an anguished sound that became a howl as the voices continued to mock him.

All sensation of movement stopped suddenly and someone clapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him like he was a small child awakened by a nightmare. It sounded like Face. He fought but couldn't escape the pressure pinning him in his seat.

A door opened beside him on his right and Hannibal's voice cut in over the top of his muffled howl.

"We're here, son, at the VA. Doctor Richter is waiting for you."

As the words registered, his howl turned to a series of gasping sobs.

And then he felt himself being helped to his feet. His legs wobbled as if he had been sedated for a while. Half-opening his eyes, he vaguely made out his doctor's face as he came toward him.

As his doctor grasped him around the waist to help him inside the hospital, Murdock didn't look back. It was better not to.

He was afraid his reality would shift again and he would find himself in another nightmare.


	27. Chapter 27

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 27

Richter noted Murdock's groggy, almost sleepwalking state and stabbed Hannibal with a furious glare. The doctor had several questions, too many for Smith to answer during this transfer.

 _Such as what prompted the need for sedatives to be used._

His first concern had to be getting Murdock into the hospital and up to his room without further arousing the demons that caused this latest episode. For now, he seemed subdued, almost resigned to his fate.

He hoped the A-team leader would at least call some time in the next twenty-four hours to find out how the Captain was doing. Richter had to know what the circumstances were leading up to this psychotic episode before he could adequately treat it.

Maybe by then he would be less upset over the state his patient was returned to him.

 _But I doubt it._

A good night's sleep looked very unlikely he realized as he pressed the button for the elevator and heard Murdock mutter, "Gotta get clean . . . gotta . . . get clean." The pilot whimpered as he wiped his hands viciously on the T-shirt he wore as if trying to remove mud or . . .

Suddenly understanding what Murdock might be doing made Richter's blood pressure rise.

 _Is he over in Nam? Or is this a reaction to something Smith had him doing?_

Smith's phone call couldn't come soon enough.

oooooo

B. A. watched from the driver's seat as Richter helped the mentally and physically drained pilot into the hospital. He hadn't expected Murdock to look at _him_ but it was a hard thing to see Face's shoulders sag because his best friend didn't acknowledge _his_ presence as he was being led away.

He didn't know how Hannibal felt about it. His leader's expression was hard and unreadable as he got in the van and ordered him to drive.

What Murdock had done since the episode in the compound building where the curtained area was reminded the Sergeant of another time in a place none of them wanted to think about.

Hesitating, with his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, he remembered and grimaced. He might as well put his thoughts into words.

"That crazy stuff he was doin' remind anyone else o' that time in Nam?" He glanced at Face and Hannibal and saw that they remembered, too.

How could any of them forget Murdock standing under the small waterfall by the river, fully clothed in his POW rags, singing that song and desperately trying to scrub Ferret's blood off his body? B. A. remembered he had to punch and knock out the crazy pilot that time as well. The remaining guards who were searching for them would hear him.

 _Fool wouldn't stop singin'. He woulda brought them right to us. An' then we'd be back in a POW camp . . . or they'd shoot us._

Then he carried Murdock through the jungle when his knee grew so infected he couldn't walk and his fevered mind became so delirious he didn't recognize them.

"He was in worse shape an' we didn't leave him behind _then,_ " B. A. growled, snapping out of the memory.

"But we left him _this_ time," Face added bitterly, glaring at his leader.

"Different circumstances," Hannibal snapped. "He wasn't responding to us in the motel. He's with someone who knows him about as well as we do. Richter knows what to do to help him through."

"Does he? Was he ever in a POW camp? Did he ever kill someone? Hell, was he ever in the military?" the con man persisted.

The Sergeant knew his team mate was only voicing something he couldn't express any other way. He was worried about the crazy man, too.

 _Ain't sure he ain't beyond fixin' this time._

He usually didn't dwell on the things that might or could have been if they had used a different tactic to complete a mission but he agreed that this time Hannibal's plan may not have been the wisest course of action.

 _The fool shouldn'ta been the one goin' in there._

Instead of answering Face, the Colonel rubbed his eyes with one hand. B. A. noted how pale and fatigued the older man was. He made a decision and started the engine.

"I'm takin' us ta the beach house. You ain't lookin' so good, Colonel. That alright wit' you, Faceman?" He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the con man nod his agreement.

"And then we'll take a good look at that shoulder and make sure it isn't getting infected." Face finished B. A.'s thought.

The wound had been a through shot. Face had checked that and the gash on Hannibal's head back at the motel as soon as they got there but infection was always a possibility.

"I'll call Richter when we get there," the Colonel promised as he stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. He let his body relax and closed his eyes.

oooooo

Daniela Scalatini, known by the hospital staff by the alias Donna Sullivan, walked briskly through the hall to the nurses' desk. Her shift was about to begin.

Since her fiance Captain Murdock was checked out of the hospital and on a mission, she felt like she was going through the motions of her job each day.

She hadn't slept well the previous evening. For some reason worry about what he might be doing kept her awake. He couldn't return soon enough.

 _If I'm lucky, it'll be a quiet night._

She didn't know why Hannibal needed him this time. She never knew the details of their missions, not even afterwards when she had time to be with Murdock. He wouldn't tell her.

 _I guess he knows I'd worry about him even more if I knew._

Sighing as she neared the desk, she resigned herself to the thought that well after her guy returned she would probably read about his adventure in the _Courier._

She was startled to note Jackson, the night orderly, entering the pilot's room. That usually meant Murdock was back. In what shape he had returned she wouldn't know until she made an excuse to check on him. But he was back.

Immediately she felt her heartbeat quicken. She smiled at Sharon, the nurse she was relieving.

"I see Captain Murdock has come back to us," she murmured as casually as she could manage. She was impatient for her colleague to leave but if Sharon had any information about the condition in which Murdock had returned . . .

Looking up at her and then down the hall to the pilot's room, Sharon grimaced. "Doctor Richter's with him now. He's asked all calls to his office be redirected to this desk. There shouldn't be any coming in this time of night but that's what he wants." Sharon shrugged. "Sounds like he thinks he'll be spending the night here in Murdock's room."

 _Something happened. The doctor wouldn't stay here overnight if there wasn't. He'd leave it to Jackson and me. And Jackson was called in there._

Dani barely resisted the urge to hurry to the room to see what was wrong.

"Did you see him when he came back?" she asked instead, keeping her voice level and quiet.

Sharon nodded her head. "The strange thing was that Doctor Richter came up in the elevator alone with Murdock. He didn't ask for _any_ help and none of us knew Murdock was even _coming_ back tonight." Glancing again in the direction of the room, she mumbled, "Poor guy."

"Why? How bad is it this time?" Dani asked, hoping the other nurse took the question as her wanting to know what her night might be like. Not as a worried lover who suspected her man took great risks when he was with his team on a mission.

"From what I saw, he was mumbling to himself and not responding very well to Doctor Richter. No physical injuries that I could see." She paused before amending her statement. "I take that back. Something must have hit him in the jaw. It looked pretty painful." She didn't notice how Dani frowned at the information.

Dani stared anxiously at the door, wanting so badly to go to him, to help him through whatever he was suffering. Jackson left the room and headed toward the desk.

 _He isn't hurrying so Richter couldn't have ordered a sedative or restraints._

She didn't realize Sharon had gathered her things and was ready to leave until she touched Dani on the shoulder. "I'm going home. Whatever the doctor needs, I'm sure Jackson and you can handle it." She smiled and patted the other nurse's hand. "Sorry. I've already had one heck of a busy shift. I need a glass of wine, a nice soft bed and my favorite movie."

"Gee, thanks," Dani muttered, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation, faking the grumpy attitude. "I guess I'll see you next Tuesday."

"Yeah. Have a nice night, Donna." Sharon waved her hand as she headed for the elevator.

"You, too," Dani called, then focused on Jackson waiting to tell her what Doctor Richter wanted them to do.


	28. Chapter 28

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 28

"Doc Richter needs you in Murdock's room, Donna," Jackson said, grimacing and looking back over his shoulder. "He said you were the only other person Murdock trusts. He wants me to take over here in case any phone calls come in for him."

 _I guess I won't have to invent an excuse to see H. M. after all._

Disguising her worry over what she might find, Dani eased herself from behind the desk and allowed the muscular blonde orderly to take her seat. "Any idea what he wants me to do?"

Jackson shrugged. "Don't know. He had all he could do to try to calm Murdock down after I came in the room."

Giving him one more quizzical glance, Dani walked briskly to the room and knocked.

"Doctor Richter? It's Nurse Sullivan. I'm coming in." Producing the master key that unlocked every room on the ward, she slipped it in the lock and opened the door.

"Nhận được sạch . . . nhận được sạch . . . giúp tôi để có được sạch sẽ . . . " Murdock ranted those words with such agitated anxiety that Dani froze. She wished one of them knew the language . . . was it Vietnamese or Chinese or what? . . . so they could relieve his torment.

She quickly entered and locked the door behind her before turning to get a good look at her fiance and his doctor.

Richter didn't look up at her as he spoke in a quiet voice to Murdock. "You're back at the hospital now, Captain. You're back at the VA." The doctor sucked in a pained breath as his patient gripped his arm. He repeated his assurances even as Murdock dug his fingers into the fleshy part of his forearm and pulled him closer. His brown eyes frantically searched the face of his therapist.

Dani drew closer, mesmerized by the scene, horrified by the ugly bruise and swelling along the pilot's jaw. She managed to ask, "Do you want me to get something to sedate him, Doctor?" She didn't want to use that kind of measure and was relieved when the doctor waved the question off with his free hand.

"I think I know what he wants and I have an idea of how to help him but he can't be heavily sedated when we do it." Richter glanced up at her and added, "Get a wheelchair and bring it here."

"Nhận được sạch . . . nhận được sạch . . . giúp tôi để có được sạch sẽ . . . " Murdock whimpered and released the hold he had. Donna saw the long scratches on the undersides of his forearms as he raised his hands.

"Doctor . . . " she breathed. "Look."

Richter quickly reached to restrain the pilot's arms and then relaxed a little as Murdock scrubbed at his face furiously, his whimper changing to harsh short gasps.

"I thought he was going to . . . " the doctor's voice faltered.

Dani finished the thought. "I know. I did, too."

"Giúp tôi để có được sạch sẽ . . . " the pilot rasped, his voice partly muffled by his hands.

Richter leaned close but not so close that his patient could punch him in the face. "Speak in English, Murdock."

Dani left the room, her mind barely processing the fact that if Murdock heard her voice, he didn't recognize her.

By the time she came back to the room with a wheelchair left by the nurses' station, Murdock was wiping his hands repeatedly on the bed sheets over his chest.

"Help me," he babbled. "The blood . . . it's ev'rywhere . . . "

"I know, Murdock. I know and we're going to help you but you have to calm down," Richter murmured in a soothing voice as he assisted his patient to sit up on the side of the bed. The action made a difference. Murdock seemed to be quieter but not any more aware of reality.

Dani helped Richter transfer the pilot to the chair and strap him in to avoid any attempt to escape. As she fastened the restraints around his wrists, she gazed into Murdock's brown eyes and saw only desperation and pain. When Richter wasn't looking, she gently stroked the top of her fiance's hand. There was no response.

 _He doesn't know who I am._

She wanted to kneel beside the chair and hold him in her arms, to tell him how much she loved him and beg him to return to the world she was in.

But Richter wanted her to open the door so he could wheel Murdock into the hallway.

 _No one knows for sure about H. M. and me. I can't let them know until he wants them to know. How long will it take for him to remember me again? And will he?_

She tried to push those heartbreaking thoughts away. If she dwelt on them she would start to cry.

"I'll need your assistance, Nurse," Richter said as he beckoned her to follow them.

Halfway down the hallway, the doctor stopped in front of a room and motioned for her to open the door.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Hydrotherapy, Doctor?" she asked as she did what he ordered. "Wasn't that technique phased out years ago?"

"Not exactly hydrotherapy, Nurse Sullivan." He wheeled Murdock into the room and knelt in front of the chair to look into the pilot's eyes. "We're going to give you a nice warm bath and get you clean. Would you like that, Murdock?"

"Like that . . . " he repeated, his voice a hollow echo.

Dani suddenly understood what Richter was trying to do. If he could convince Murdock that they were bathing him to wash away the blood from wherever he thought it came from, maybe it would stabilize him and help his memory return.

 _What a clever idea. But what if it doesn't work?_

Richter nodded for Dani to start running the water. "Keep it a little on the warm side. Not too hot though."

"Should I put in some bubble bath, Doctor?" If the situation wasn't so serious she might have smirked at the suggestion.

The therapist smiled grimly, busy undoing the restraints keeping the pilot in the chair. "Why not? Let's make his surroundings as different from his war experiences as possible." As soon as the last strap was unbuckled, he murmured to his patient, "You need to get undressed before we can let you soak in the tub. Do you need someone to help or can you do it yourself?"

Dani poured in a capful of bubble bath and watched as bubbles formed on the surface of the water. The air above the water carried the scent of eucalyptus and mint.

 _Good thing it isn't coconut or tropical flowers._

Before Murdock could answer, there was a light rap on the door. "Doctor Richter? You have a phone call." Jackson opened the door just enough to poke his head in.

Richter mumbled a curse word and stood. "Take over for me, Jackson. Help Sullivan with Murdock while I'm gone."

He glanced at his patient for a second, shook his head and left Jackson and Dani alone with the unresponsive pilot.

"I'll help you get Murdock ready for his bath." Scrutinizing the man in the wheelchair, he snorted. "Not much help _he's_ going to be."

Dani wanted to punch the orderly for that insensitive statement.

 _But what good would it do?_

Sighing, she turned off the tap and focused on removing Murdock's T-shirt, letting Jackson take the rest of the patient's clothes off.

She bit her lower lip to hold back tears when they finally got Murdock into the warm aromatic bubble bath and still got no response.

 _How am I going to reach you, H.M.? Please . . . please come back to me._

oooooo

Richter strode to the desk, the anger he had squelched rising up again.

As soon as his hand curled around the receiver, he knew he must regain control over his temper or the phone call would get ugly very quickly.

"Richter here," he forced out.

 _Smith had better have good answers for my questions._

"Doctor Richter. This is Templeton Peck, Murdock's friend. How is he?"

"Where's Smith?" the doctor growled, then took a deep breath, realizing he didn't need to snap at this man who only followed his leader's orders.

 _As did Murdock, and look what happened._

"The Colonel has a concussion and a mild fever from an infected gunshot wound. He asked _me_ to call you."

 _I bet he does._

Richter was not very sympathetic except for the part about the gunshot wound. He wondered how serious it was. Then he realized the team likely saw worse during their tour of duty in Nam. Smith was not his patient but anything related to the team would concern Murdock, too.

"Does he need a doctor to look at it?"

He could hear the A-team leader in the background. "I'll talk to him . . . "

"Sit still, Colonel." That was a gruff voice that he assumed was Baracus.

"No, I got this, Hannibal." Peck must have covered the receiver slightly because his response was muffled, then, "I can try to answer any questions you have, Doc. But first I want to know how Murdock is."

"In about the same condition as when your leader decided to abandon him here." He hadn't meant to be so harsh but he was angry he could not speak directly to Smith. "What exactly did Smith have Murdock do to lead up to this episode? If I'm expected to work with him to get him back to his mental state before this latest fiasco . . . "

"I can't tell you everything because I don't know everything that my buddy thought he saw or heard." Peck paused and sighed. "He was our inside man for a mission. He was seriously influenced by some brainwashing tapes that tried to convince him to abandon everything and everybody he knew to join a cult."

" _Brainwashing?_ What the hell was Smith thinking by making Murdock the inside man?" He knew Murdock had some CIA training which might help him fight that kind of technique. There were parts of his file that were still restricted. But the man was not the same as when he was working for the Agency. Richter was certain of that. Maybe he was more vulnerable to brainwashing now.

"I guess Murdock seemed the best choice for the job." Richter heard a hint of the Lieutenant's lingering disagreement over that and sympathized with him.

 _This is his best friend. He wouldn't have placed him in a situation that would damage him like this. This is Smith's fault._

"When we came to extract him he had made the decision to join the group. Then he found out that the whole thing was constructed on a lie."

Richter frowned. "I don't understand."

"The leader of the group, the one with the words that convinced him to join them, had been murdered months ago. Three men were making a profit from the money and property new members gave to the cult by pretending he was still alive." Peck paused again. "Murdock seems to have formed close attachments to a kid who was there and . . . does this make sense? . . . and to the dead leader's voice on the tapes."

"Well, what did the leader promise on those tapes?" Richter couldn't explain the attachment to the kid but he might know why Murdock bought into the things the leader said.

"Peace, Doctor. Peace and an end to all of the nightmares and flashbacks from Nam." With an evident strain in his tone, Peck added, "Something we couldn't provide him."

oooooo

nhận được sạch . . . giúp tôi để có được sạch sẽ (get clean . . . help me to get clean) Vietnamese


	29. Chapter 29

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 29

"Murdock thinks he's got blood on him. Where did he get that idea? Was it something he saw on this 'mission' or is he seeing something from his past?" Richter tightened his grip on the receiver, realizing not even Peck, Murdock's best friend, could read the man's mind. But maybe he had an idea of what the pilot had meant.

"We had to create a diversion. People were injured besides Hannibal. Murdock didn't get any blood on him so this must be some kind of flashback."

 _Am I mistaken or does he know more about Murdock's delusion than he's telling?_

"But he knew the other people who were injured? He had become friends with them?"

 _If he thought he had found the path to inner peace and Smith's plan resulted in people getting hurt . . ._

"The injuries were unintentional," Peck continued, his tone both defensive and guilt-ridden. Then, "We try very hard _not_ to hurt or kill civilians, Doctor."

 _Civilians? Interesting choice of words. Have these men ever stopped fighting in the war?_

"Please help him, Doc."

Richter sensed the emotional pain of the man on the other end of the phone call.

"I will try. This has been a major setback to his treatment. For the next few weeks, I'm not sure any of you should be in contact with him. _At all_. Let us work with him. Call me in a few days and I'll let you know if there's progress."

"If that's what he needs to get well. Thank you, Doc." Peck sounded tired and unhappy with the way things had turned out.

With a dull feeling of failure Richter ended the conversation.

The Lieutenant's words nagged at the doctor.

 _Murdock was brainwashed. He joined a group, formed a close attachment to someone who promised release from the worst memories of his past. That person is dead, murdered. Others were injured because of Smith and the execution of his plan. How would Murdock have felt? Deceived? Like there was no hope left? Suicidal?_

It was obvious that his patient relapsed during the mission. He returned to the bathroom where Murdock was being bathed, having the blood he thought he saw cleansed from his body.

At least now he knew more about what might have prompted the mental state to which his patient had regressed.

oooooo

"And now we let Schreiker know we have his file?" Face attempted to forget about what kind of treatment Murdock might have to endure. It was difficult but they had to complete the mission and that meant calling their client and delivering the information to him.

 _Though I'm tempted to take a lighter to it and give him the ashes in a little urn for what this did to my buddy._

"He'll know we were there at the Keepers' compound. He'll see it on TV," Hannibal muttered and winced as B. A. cleansed his shoulder wound with a gauze pad soaked with antiseptic.

Despite his lingering resentment, Face noted how pallid Hannibal appeared and how angry red the stitched entry wound was.

 _The exit wound is probably just as bad._

"He'll be expecting us to call him," the older man lying on the bed emphasized, flinching again as the gauze accidentally pulled at one of the stitches.

The con man knew all that. But with his leader in the condition he was, there was no way he was going to be able to meet with their client and say the things that needed to be said.

 _Like asking if Schreiker forgot he left a wife and son back at that compound when he called us in to do this job._

"You ain't goin' nowhere, Colonel. Faceman an' me, we'll do it." B. A. scowled at his patient, then glanced over to see the con man nod in agreement.

Hannibal scrubbed his face with one hand. "You know Schreiker isn't going to like what you give him." He sighed when B. A. crossed his arms, a warning that he wasn't going to listen to argument. "At least make sure he pays you first. Everything we agreed on."

"Oh, we'll make sure. With all we went through to get this, he'd _better_ pay up." The con man grabbed the file and riffled through it once more before angrily tossing it back on the table. He was still thinking about Murdock and how he looked when they found him in the motel bathroom under the icy cold shower.

As if reading his mind, the Colonel murmured, "He'll be alright, Face. Between Richter and Miss Scalatini, they'll figure out how to help him."

"Well, the good doctor told me we have to stay away for a few days. _No_ contact." The Lieutenant ran a hand over his disheveled hair, somewhat smoothing it back into place.

"He's in good hands. We have to finish what we started," the injured man argued, sucking in another breath as B. A. checked the gash on his head.

Face glared at Hannibal as he picked up the phone to call their client. "I'll set up the meet with Schreiker. Anything you want to tell him that you know I won't, Colonel?"

"You can't tell him what I think and expect to be paid." After a few more moments of thought, Hannibal added, "Tell him we should have charged him more. Much more."

oooooo

"Đi . . . đi . . . đi . . . "

Richter heard the raspy voice even before he opened the door. It was increasing in volume. Which meant the person saying that single foreign word was beginning to panic.

 _What now?_

Opening the door, the doctor assessed the scene with a mixture of shock and amusement. Beside the bathtub was a puddle of soapy water. Jackson stood in the farthest corner, his head and upper torso wet and dripping.

Murdock knelt in the tub, hurling handfuls of bubbles and water at him and saying that word over and over again. His eyes reflected fear and desperation.

"Stop that, Murdock!" the orderly commanded without success.

Nurse Sullivan squatted beside the tub, globs of foam in her hair, trying to calm the pilot down. Her words, spoken too softly for either Richter or Jackson to hear, seemed to have little effect. She touched Murdock on his bare shoulder but he swatted her hand away and continued his splashing.

"Đi . . . đi . . . Tôi sẽ không đi với bạn . . . "

The doctor hurriedly shut the door behind him. Noticing the nurse swallow once and try again, he wondered if she was attempting to simply gain control over the situation or something else was guiding her words and actions.

 _It's not the first time I've seen her react this way to him._

Making a mental note to find time to talk to her later, he sidestepped the puddle. For now, he ignored the water and bubbles that sprayed his pants as the pilot flung another cupped handful of bathwater toward the orderly.

"That's enough, Murdock!" Jackson snarled.

Richter wasn't sure what had happened to create the mayhem and wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I'm back, Murdock. I'm back," he soothed, nodding to Jackson that he was free to leave. The orderly scowled at the man in the bath tub.

"He got me in a headlock when I reached to turn off the taps and pushed me under. I think he was trying to drown me."

"What did _you_ do to make him respond that way?" Richter asked.

 _I'm pretty sure he did nothing. But I have to ask._

Jackson narrowed his eyes as he backed out of the door. "Helped Sullivan get his clothes off and assisted to get him into the tub. Like you ordered. Ask her." With one last scorching look at the wild-eyed man in the tub, the orderly muttered, "I'll go get a mop."

"Wait until he's back in his room before you clean up in here," Richter responded, his focus on his patient who was about to send another volley of bathwater toward the door.

"Yes sir," Jackson replied, obvious relief in his answer.

When the door was closed, Murdock, still kneeling, curled his upper body over his legs, his hands clutching the sides of his head, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Nurse Sullivan will help you get clean now, Murdock," Richter breathed. The pilot didn't react but continued to block out sights and sounds around him. The doctor glanced at Sullivan, noting her unhappy expression as she reached for soap and a washcloth and began to gently lather the pilot's back. As she did, Murdock relaxed slightly though his body still trembled a little under her touch.

"I'm sorry, Sullivan, but the only ones he seems to respond positively to is you and me. He doesn't trust anyone else. Until he does, we'll have to take turns watching him." Except for a small pause in what she was doing, the nurse didn't say anything. "How would you like to earn some overtime this month?"

"I'll do whatever is needed for him to get better, doctor," the nurse finally said.

oooooo

"Đi . . . đi . . . Tôi sẽ không đi với bạn . . . " - Vietnamese for "Go . . . go . . . I will not go with you . . . "


	30. Chapter 30

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 30

Late evening, the next day

oooooo

"Park there, B. A." Face pointed to a darkened corner in the parking lot of Serensetti's Italian Restaurant. "This shouldn't take very long."

The Sergeant did as he was told and killed the engine. "Sure ya ain't gonna run inta any trouble, Faceman?"

The con man got out of the van, smoothing out his suit jacket as he did. "Do you honestly think Schreiker's going to raise a racket in a fine dining establishment like this?" Face gave the driver a dazzling smile and a wink. He gazed at his reflection in the side mirror, adjusting his tie and adding, "Besides, you can't come in. You haven't dressed for this occasion."

He ignored B. A.'s disdainful grunt. "Serensetti knows me and doesn't ask questions. I'm one of his loyal patrons. If Schreiker so much as raises his voice to me, he'll be escorted out. This'll be a piece of cake."

B. A. groaned. "Ya say that an' there's sure ta be trouble. Always is."

"That's when it's one of _Hannibal's_ plans. _This_ one is mine." He gave his shoes a quick appraisal to make sure they were spotless and strolled toward the carved dark wood and glass double doors. He felt the black man's gaze on him and smiled to himself. The only thing that Serensetti or his staff would find unusual about his visit this time would be the absence of a young gorgeous wannabe starlet clinging to his arm.

He sighed and tightened his hold on the large white envelope holding Schreiker's file.

 _But business is business._

oooooo

When Dani entered Murdock's room she found him in much the same state as when she left to get his supper tray. Staring vacantly at nothing, his hands slightly trembling at his sides, he seemed to be totally unaware of anything around him. His lips moved as if he were rehearsing lines from a book but only a whisper came out. She had heard him say the words several times now.

 _ _If the rain comes, they run and hide their heads.  
They might as well be dead.__

On his television, an old Woody Woodpecker cartoon played quietly.

It was her idea to turn the channel to the Warner Brothers cartoon marathon, hoping he would respond, wishing he would realize he was no longer in a POW camp in Nam.

She didn't think he recognized even the T-shirt that was tacked up on the wall opposite him. He had done that himself after one of the team's missions.

She wasn't sure what significance that held for him.

 _And he wouldn't tell me what it meant either._

Maybe a reminder about something that happened during the mission? As long as he didn't paint the walls with his own blood, Richter and none of the staff questioned it.

"Suppertime, H. M.," she murmured. Dani settled back in the folding chair beside the bed after setting the tray of food in her fiance's lap. He stared down at it as if he didn't know what it was. He didn't look at her. Sighing, she waited for him to make a move.

 _If he doesn't eat by himself, I'll have to feed him by hand. He has to eat._

Dani bit her lower lip and silently cheered as she watched Murdock carefully tear a small piece from the buttered toast on his tray. He chewed slowly and swallowed.

Reaching over, she picked up the styrofoam glass of milk and touched his lips with the straw. She wasn't sure if he could handle the glass on his own so she held it for him.

"Have something to drink," she quietly encouraged.

After sipping a tiny amount, he tore another bit from the toast and placed it in his mouth. Scooping some mashed potatoes and chicken gravy up with the plastic spoon, she waited until he chewed and swallowed before offering it to him.

He frowned when she spooned the potatoes into his mouth but he didn't spit them out. She wondered what caused that reaction.

As soon as she was sure he swallowed the food, she offered the milk again. Another sip, almost like he was afraid it would be his last meal.

 _Was this what it was like for him in that POW camp? He told me about that Vietnamese cook that used to sneak them bread and how even that was something he and the guys ate slowly just to keep up their strength. No wonder he frowned when I fed him the potatoes. That wasn't on the camp menu._

She reflected on that last thought. _It wasn't on the menu._

That gave her an idea, one she hoped would convince him a little more that he was no longer over there.

Dipping into the styrofoam bowl of butterscotch pudding, she held her breath. "Who says you can't have dessert first?" she murmured as she spooned it into his mouth.

Another frown as he felt the texture of the creamy food and tasted its sweetness. His eyes lost their vacant stare. He looked at her, finally seeing her, and swallowed.

Smiling at him, she was gratified when he tentatively smiled back.

"H. M.? Do you know where you are?" She searched his expression for some sense that he recognized her or his surroundings. Her heart ached for him.

His gaze wandered from her face to the arcade game and dresser along one wall, the T-shirt hung as decoration, the sink near the door, then back to her. The confusion in his eyes was overwhelming.

 _I suppose I should be glad he isn't speaking Vietnamese and thinking he's in the POW camp anymore. But he still doesn't recognize me._

Continuing to examine her facial features, he eventually shook his head 'no' and guessed. It came out in a hoarse whisper. "Cam Ranh?"

 _Cam Ranh? He's still in Nam but at least he isn't thinking he's in the camp anymore._

"No, not Cam Ranh. You're in a hospital stateside." She resisted telling him more, not knowing how much truth he could handle at one time.

"Stateside?" he echoed in disbelief.

She watched as he took in the information, then stared anxiously down at the blanket covering his lower body.

"My leg. They saved it?" he croaked, a hint of fear in his question.

For a moment she didn't understand what he meant. Then, remembering some of the details of his medical history, she took his hand in hers. Looking into his eyes, she answered as cheerfully as she could.

"Yes. Your leg is fine. Both of them are. And if you feel up to it later, before your bath, we can take a walk up and down the hallway. Would you like that?"

 _Please, please, say yes. Show me you're starting to come back to us._

He pulled his hand away and fidgeted with the top edge of the bed sheet. Looking down, he stammered, "I . . . I don' know." Then he glanced up at her with a shy smile. "But that bath sounds jus' fine."

She blushed a little, knowing he thought she was a nurse at the Cam Ranh Bay hospital in Nam and not the woman he proposed marriage to months ago.

 _But if we continue working with him, maybe he'll remember?_

He took another bite of his toast, not realizing the pain in the heart of the woman sitting beside him, encouraging him to finish his meal.

oooooo

The piano player was playing soft slow music when Schreiker arrived. A few couples were on the dance floor already.

Their client looked out of place at Serensetti's and extremely nervous and uncomfortable. As the waiter led him to the table where Face sat enjoying an appetizer of lobster caponata, the con man got an uneasy feeling about the man's body language.

 _For someone who's eager to get his hands on the folder I have with me, he looks like this is the last place on earth he wants to be._

Face decided he would conduct this business as quickly as he could and make an excuse to leave as soon as possible. A rewarding thought crossed his mind as he motioned for Schreiker to have a seat and asked the waiter to pour each of them a glass of Chardonnay.

 _If I pull it off, Schreiker can pay for the appetizer and wine. Hope he hasn't tapped out his bank account._

He scanned the room carefully, looking for anyone that seemed to be watching where Schreiker went and whom he was with.

 _There! Those two guys sitting at that table by the potted palm._

Swinging his gaze to the main entrance, he noted another man standing as if waiting for a table. He glanced in Face's direction and then looked away.

 _How obvious can they be? Well, won't this be interesting._

He wasn't sure if the three were some of Decker's men or someone Schreiker hired to get his money back after the transaction was complete.

 _It really doesn't matter. I'll either be arrested and thrown in Fort Bragg or rolled for the money out in the alley._

Neither of those options appealed to him. The con man spied a dark-haired beauty seated in a booth across from a muscular blonde bodybuilder type. He smiled, then winced.

 _Felicity may just be my way out of this situation. The guy she's with looks like he could do his share of injury to me. But if it helps me avoid being caught . . ._

"You have the papers they took from me?" Schreiker removed an envelope from his jacket pocket.

"You have the money?" Face responded, waiting to pass the large envelope to their client, keeping it out of sight in his lap.

"Right here," the other man muttered, tapping the smaller envelope on the table.

"You're lucky I'm not going to ask for more. Collateral damage done to two of our guys." The con man lost his smile and glared at Schreiker. _"And_ you didn't mention a wife and a son when we made our deal."

For a moment the client reddened, gulped, then put a faked grateful expression on his face. "You got them out? Safely, I hope?"

"That wasn't part of the deal. We made sure they would be safe staying with the group. We got what you wanted, no more, no less." The con man saw the other man's relieved look and felt a wave of anger run through him.

 _He's happy they didn't come with us. What a bastard! But now's not the time to lose my temper._

He saw the man near the door move across the room toward them and made a quick decision. Dropping the envelope on the floor and yanking the money from Schreiker's hand, he tucked it away in his inside suit jacket pocket and maneuvered through the increasing number of couples dancing to the piano music. He didn't have to look back to know that their client scrambled for the abandoned file instead of pursuing him.

"Felicity! Remember me?" He stopped at the booth and bent down to give the young beauty a peck on the cheek. He let his hand rest on her shoulder, creating a predictable reaction from her date. Purposely turning his back on him, Face lavished his charm on the woman.

"You're looking especially wonderful tonight." He could almost feel the waves of hot rage coming off the muscle man behind him.

"Temp!" She smiled, blushing and unaware of her companion's glower. "Are you alone?"

Face returned the smile and motioned with his head to the dance floor. "I _was_. I'm not now. Do you want to dance?"

Just as he hoped and expected, the bodybuilder stood and tapped him on the shoulder. "Back off, buddy. She's with me."

The con man turned to answer and found himself gazing directly at the man's deeply clefted chin. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet the bodybuilder's intense glare.

 _He's a big one. I hope Serensetti intervenes before this guy kills me._

"All I did was ask her for a dance. Do you have a problem with that?" Face tried not to think how much pain he was about to be in.

 _But those at least those three goons that were with Schreiker won't try to grab me._

"Yeah. I do." The bodybuilder's jaw muscles were working hard as he drew back his huge fist.


	31. Chapter 31

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 31

Face's eyes widened as he saw Felicity's date draw his huge fist back to deliver the first punch.

 _It'll be like if B. A. hit me. And we all know how that would turn out._

Thankfully the bodybuilder paused just a second and smiled grimly when he noticed the con man's reaction.

 _Probably to make the moment more memorable for me. But it also makes him more predictable._

Face saw the exact moment when the big man launched his blow and ducked. The fist skimmed the con man's hair and crunched into something behind him. As Face rebounded from his crouched position, he was surprised to see the bodybuilder stagger forward and fall to his knees.

 _Maybe I'll get out of here alive yet._

Twisting in place to see what the man had made contact with, the con man saw Felicity sprawled unconscious on her back on the floor. Her eye was already beginning to swell shut and blood streamed from her nose.

Face was stunned. Seeing the three men he suspected as working with Schreiker coming toward them, he thought quickly.

 _Felicity's in good hands. They'll call an ambulance and they'll give her medical attention. But if those guys get hold of me . . ._

"That's gonna be one hell of a black eye. Here, let me see if the kitchen's got a nice steak tartare they can spare." To his credit, the bodybuilder seemed to be very repentant about what he did to the woman lying unmoving on the floor and ignored his offer.

Face swallowed hard. _That might have been me. Sorry, Felicity._

Without waiting for a response from Felicity's date, Face quickly made his way through the gathering spectators to the double doors leading to the kitchen. He was already calculating how much money to give to Serensetti to cover for the glass of Chardonnay, the lobster appetizer, the steak tartare and the waiter's gratuity.

 _Let's see . . . twelve dollars for the wine . . . the lobster caponata was about twenty . . . add eighteen for the steak tartare and another fifteen for the service . . . sixty-five dollars ought to cover it all . . . maybe a little extra for the commotion . . ._

Even as he pushed open the doors he dug out his wallet and the bills he needed.

"Signor Peck." Just inside those doors, Serensetti himself, a worried look on his face, touched the con man's sleeve. "What is wrong? Was the lobster caponata not to your liking?"

Despite the urgency of the situation, Face gave the restaurant owner an appreciative smile. "The caponata was magnificent. The Chardonnay was at a perfect temperature."

"Then what is wrong?" Serensetti sounded very concerned.

"The business associate I was meeting brought along three thugs that I'm afraid intend to weasel me out of the money I'm due for services rendered. I need to leave but not so they can follow me, if you know what I mean." The con man motioned with his head toward the men, temporarily slowed down by the crowd gathering around Felicity and her date. He noted with relief that the woman was just beginning to wake.

"The young lady will need some medical attention . . . and something to take down the swelling." Slipping the restaurant owner the money in his hand, Face added, "A raw ribeye, perhaps? On me, please. And this should cover the steak and everything else. So . . . where's the back door?"

Serensetti motioned with his hand. "That way, Signor Peck. We will prevent those men from coming through here." A single snap of his fingers brought one of the assistant chefs to the older man's side. Before Face could hear the restaurant owner's instructions, he was hurrying toward the back door.

 _Three things I can count on Serensetti to deliver . . . excellent food, good service and discretion._

The hairs on the back of Face's neck rose a little as he opened the door. Peering up and down the alley, he tried to dismiss the feeling. He knew he didn't have long before his pursuers left through the front door to intercept him. He needed to get to the van as fast as he could.

 _But hasn't almost everything else having to do with this mission gone south? No sense in rushing out of one trap and into another._

A slight breeze riffled the pages of a discarded newspaper. A stray cat leaped onto the dumpster and sniffed around the edge of the lid before gracefully hopping back down onto the broken asphalt.

At the end of the alley a dark figure appeared, soon joined by another. Face ducked his head back inside the door and, for the first time that evening, wished he hadn't made B. A. wait with the van.

 _That was too quick for any of those guys inside to get out here. There's more than three of them. Which means I can't go back inside and I can't really go out this door either. Unless I make a run for it._

Taking in a deep breath and steeling his nerve, he stepped into the alley. Hearing the door close behind him with a click, he turned in the opposite direction from where the two men were. Too late he realized that the dark corner of the parking lot in front where he had left B. A. and the van was the other way, behind the advancing figures.

 _Just how fast can I run? Faster than a speeding bullet?_

"That's Murdock's line when he wants to be a superhero," he muttered. Two other figures appeared in the other end of the alley. Sighing, Face turned once again, raising his hands in the air as he did.

 _Come on, B. A.! A little help here? Or did they get him, too? I wonder if they'll settle for taking us to their leader, whoever that is._

oooooo

From the folding chair, Doctor Richter watched Murdock watching the Tom and Jerry cartoon on the television. He had been surprised to note the progress Nurse Sullivan had made with the pilot since earlier in the day when he sat with his patient.

The nurse reported that the change happened when she noticed Murdock's reaction to the food she was feeding him. Thinking about that, he shook his head.

 _It's strange how that happens sometimes. What works for one patient doesn't always work for another. And in this case . . ._

He saw a smile tug at the corners of his patient's mouth as the cartoon mouse hit the cartoon cat with a huge hammer. Another small sign of progress.

 _. . . food that he would recognize as something that wouldn't be served in the POW camp did it. Just like last night's bubble bath convinced him the blood he thought was on him had been washed away._

So far, Murdock hadn't spoken to him since the bath incident. Richter wondered if the pilot knew who he was. He seemed to accept the doctor's presence without protest.

 _As he does Sullivan's presence._

Thinking about that, Richter mulled over his mounting suspicions that there was something more to the relationship between Sullivan and Murdock than nurse to patient.

He had to admit, she seemed to know what to do to assist the pilot in regaining his sense of where he was.

They had tried letting another female nurse sit with him but he started to show signs of regression. He didn't do well when he was left on his own either.

 _No, it's got to be either Sullivan or me with him. Right now, we seem to be his tether to reality._

He thought again about what Peck had told him about the team's last mission.

Murdock had bonded with a kid who was in a cult. He had bought into the cult leader's teaching, promises of internal peace and no more nightmares and flashbacks . . .

 _Like Peck said, it's something he has to find for himself. We can help him but we can't wave a magic wand and make it happen._

He rose and walked to the window. Looking out at the dusky skies and gathering shadows Richter felt weary. He had invested so much of himself and his time into this one patient and to have one incident make all of the work regress to this degree . . .

 _And I still haven't spoken to Smith about all of this._

He wondered if the A-team leader was avoiding contact on purpose.

The cartoon came to an end and the announcer chirped, "We'll return after these messages."

Glancing at Murdock, he noticed his patient had lost his focus again. An advertisement for the popular kids' toy Teddy Ruxpin came on but the pilot didn't seem to care.

Frowning intently at his fingers, he picked at the skin beside his thumbnail. It was a nervous habit Richter recognized from times in therapy sessions when the pilot was faced with a question he obviously didn't want to answer.

Richter was reminded of the work of Abraham Maslow.

Maslow was the American psychologist who came up with the theory of the hierarchy of needs to describe the successive needs in everyone's lives which must be met before a person could grow into their fullest potential as a human being.

The doctor saw how the hierarchy of needs theory could be applied to Murdock. Obviously, the VA hospital supplied the bottom two levels of Maselow's pyramid, the basic needs. All of the patients' physiological needs of rest, food, water and warmth and the safety needs of a secure and safe place were met by the facility.

Richter always worried about the next level, the psychological needs. It was difficult to help patients feel a sense of accomplishment inside the confines of the hospital. Art therapy wasn't for everyone.

As far as the need to develop close relationships, some of his patients weren't aware enough of their surroundings to miss friendships and a sense of belonging. The relationships they formed were with others who had similar diagnoses and with the staff who cared for them. Murdock wasn't one of those patients.

Richter had hoped, after finding out about his patient's contact with his former team members, that occasional outings with them would fulfill the psychological needs. To a degree these 'missions' seemed to do just that.

 _Until this mission. Did that cult offer to fulfill his psychological needs in a more lasting way?_

From what Peck said, the answer was 'yes.'

Richter frowned as he saw a bloom of blood appear on the sheet covering Murdock. The pilot had torn away too much skin from beside his thumbnail. Slowly moving toward the bed and carefully restraining him from picking at the skin anymore, Richter dug in his pocket for a clean tissue to wrap around the open wound.

"You shouldn't do that," he softly scolded. Glancing at Murdock, he saw no response. The pilot's attention was refocused on the next cartoon beginning on the television.

Richter sighed as he remembered something Maslow wrote.

 _In any given moment, we have two options: to step forward into growth or to step back into safety._

The doctor sadly shook his head.

 _What made you choose to step back into safety, Captain?_


	32. Chapter 32

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 32

Face waited as the men from both sides of the alley slowly advanced. He was certain these thugs didn't come to this party unarmed. Worse, he himself didn't bring a gun with him into Serensetti's and realized now what a mistake that was.

 _But an innocent bystander might have gotten hurt if I had._

Even now, if he gave these men reason to shoot, someone might poke their head out of the back door to see what the noise was and get injured or killed. So he waited, hands up in surrender, hoping B. A. saw the men head into the alley and realized what was going on.

 _He won't abandon me. I know he won't._

One of the men from inside the restaurant, the one who had looked like he was waiting for a table, got to him first. Shoved up against the building, face-first, the con man's first thought was of his Lorenzini custom-fit dress shirt and Brioni suit jacket making close contact with the filth of the brick wall.

 _I should never have worn the most expensive clothes in my wardrobe to meet with Schreiker._

His second thought was that these guys weren't military. The man behind him searched him with one hand, his arm squeezing the con man against the wall with deadly efficiency.

 _At least, not all of them._

His third thought was of the envelope Schreiker had given him for their services. Cursing silently, he realized he had not looked inside to see if the money was all there.

 _Yeah, wouldn't that be something if I'm being rolled for an envelope full of newspaper clippings?_

One of the other thugs appeared and growled into the Lieutenant's face, "No weapon, huh? Not a smart move, pal."

Flinching away from the man's stale cigarette and coffee breath, Face let out a small chuckle. "Must have accidentally left it at the dry cleaners with my other suit."

"Funny guy. What's your connection with that weasel Schreiker?" The thug grabbed a handful of Face's hair in the back and drew his head back before shoving the con man's left cheek into the grimy bricks. Face felt the rough surface tear the skin and pressed his lips firmly together.

 _Guess I won't be scamming any fancy hotel rooms for us for a while. Not after these guys get through with me._

"He hired me to find something for him. That's all." Face thought he was beginning to understand the urgency behind Schreiker's job offer. Schreiker wasn't working with these guys and they weren't working for him. So what was _their_ connection to the team's client? Until he knew more about these men, he wasn't willing to say anything about the rest of his team.

 _Maybe these guys will believe I worked solo on this._

Unable to turn his head, Face heard rather than saw the two other men approach from the other end of the alley. The strongman holding him against the wall located the envelope and passed it to his companion who grinned and opened it. He pressed the con man closer to the wall, so close Face thought he could almost smell the fragrance of Serensetti's special pasta sauce through the bricks. Both men watched the third open the envelope and glance inside.

Moments later Face saw the man scowl. He nodded to his partner who grabbed the con man's arm and wrenched it to about the middle of Face's back.

"Where's the money, pal?" the interrogator snapped as he let the neatly cut newspaper flutter to the ground.

The con man sucked in a breath and managed to gasp, "He . . . screwed you, too . . . huh? And . . . he's probably . . . gone now and hitching . . . a ride out of L. A."

 _I knew it. How did I know this was going to happen?_

"The boss ain't gonna like this," the thug holding Face snarled to his friend.

"Schreiker's a dead man." The words were said with such a calm assurance, Face almost . . . almost . . . felt sorry for Schreiker. These guys would be efficient at what they did when they caught up to him.

 _Which means he won't ever be paying us for this job._

"Go see if Schreiker's still inside," the guy with the stale breath barked at someone Face couldn't see. "And you go get the car and start looking for him. He'll be on foot. He can't drive a car with slashed tires."

All Face heard of the two unseen accomplices was retreating hurried footsteps. He knew he should be relieved that he now had only two thugs to contend with but the steady pressure on his arm and back told him it wouldn't be easy to get away.

"And now . . . what should we do with you?"

 _Good question._

"You could let me go. I know nothing. I won't say anything." The con man tried to keep his voice level and calm.

"He's got a point." The thug gripping his arm didn't release him but seemed to wait for instructions.

 _Obviously he's the muscle and not the brains. A follower, not a leader._

The restaurant back door banged open, drawing the attention of all three men. Felicity's irate male friend poked his head out. Seeing Face, ignoring the others, he stormed into the alley, his fists two balls of white-knuckled fury. "You made me hit her. She don't want anything ta do with me now. You're gonna pay for that."

He was closely followed by Serensetti himself. Keeping his distance, the restaurant owner babbled apologies even as the jilted bodybuilder stalked over to the con man and the men holding him. "I tried to keep him from following. Do you need help?"

The con man grimaced as the man holding him jerked his arm higher up his back. He debated what he should say.

 _Well, it wouldn't hurt. But somehow I don't think Muscles there is gonna protect me from these slimeballs. He's more likely to help them._

"Signor Peck!" Serensetti paled when he finally noted what appeared to be a mugging. "I'll call the police!" He backed through the door as Felicity's angry date growled, "He ain't gonna _need_ the police after I'm done with him. He'll need a ambulance!"

The other man gasped at that statement and retreated. With Serensetti safely back inside the restaurant and on the phone, Face decided to allow the situation to play itself out. Having the police show up to arrest all four of them was not a good idea.

 _But what am I going to do?_

The thug in charge of the mugging glared at the furious bodybuilder. "Better back off, buddy. We got some business . . . "

He didn't get a chance to finish his statement as a huge fist crashed into his jaw and sent him staggering across the alley. He fell and didn't move.

Face's eyes widened.

 _One down . . ._

He felt his arm drop back down to his side as Felicity's date yanked the other thug away and grappled with him. The two seemed evenly matched as they traded punches, ignoring their common enemy for the moment.

And Face took that moment to run toward the last known location of B. A., the van and freedom. He heard two angry shouts behind him and the sound of running but he had a very good head start. And a very good reason to run the fastest he had ever run in his life.

Jerking open the van door and scrambling in, he gasped out two words. "Go, B. A.!"

As the black man sped from the parking lot, Face glanced in the passenger's side window. Two bloodied irate men stood watching them, their hands balled into fists.

"What took ya so long, Faceman? An' where's th' money?" B. A. shot him a scowling look.

"Don't ask. Just drive," the con man panted, closing his eyes and sagging against the seat.


	33. Chapter 33

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 33

One week later

oooooo

Standing in the hallway with a tray of food, Dani stared at the observation window set in the door of Murdock's room. The pilot had made sufficient progress, in Doctor Richter's opinion, to be in his room alone for longer periods of time.

She wasn't so sure. At times when she checked on him he seemed in an almost hypnotic or meditative state, either sitting crosslegged on his bed with his eyes closed or on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. Even when she knocked and entered, he didn't rouse from that state until she touched him on the shoulder. When he did, it was as if he felt a sudden jolt of electricity shoot through his body.

 _And he still doesn't recognize me or this hospital._

Integration with the other patients in the day room was not yet possible. They had tried once, the doctor and nurse on either side of him. He made it only halfway down the hall before having a panic attack and needing to be helped back to his room.

Richter and Dani were the only ones who could tend to his needs without him having a psychotic meltdown. He wasn't having continuous nightmares or flashback episodes anymore. He no longer required round-the-clock monitoring by either Dani or the doctor.

In a way, Dani missed the eight-hour-long shifts watching over and caring for him.

 _Maybe if I still had that time, he would remember who I am and what he promised._

As soon as she thought that she felt guilty.

 _It isn't his fault. He was following orders. Hannibal's orders._

She sighed and wondered if, when they got married . . . _if_ they ever got married . . . Hannibal's orders would override any responsibility to his wife or . . . again a big _if_ . . . children.

Subconsciously, she touched her gold necklace and thought of the moment a few months ago when the pilot had proposed to her in her apartment. The ring he had given her was safely hidden on the end of that chain inside her uniform top.

 _Close to my heart. Just as close as he is to my heart. Even if he never remembers me, he'll still be . . ._

Shaking her head, banishing those thoughts from her mind, Dani scanned the lunch tray contents. The kitchen staff had listened to her, she noted with satisfaction. The tuna salad sandwich was thick with filling and on light rye bread. Dessert was chocolate cake with a yellow rose made of butter cream placed in the center of a quarter-inch layer of chocolate frosting.

 _H. M. will have no problem finishing all of this. At least, I hope he doesn't._

Both Richter and she noticed the pilot seemed to have little appetite. He was slowly losing weight. When urged, he ate bread and drank water but rarely touched the rest of the food he was offered.

 _It's almost like he's fasting for spiritual reasons._

She knew that Richter was beginning to consider having Murdock put in restraints and hooking him up to an IV just to keep him from starving himself to death. Dani shuddered at the thought.

 _I can't let that happen. I've got to try to get him to eat._

She knocked at the door and called out, "Captain Murdock? I have your lunch. May I come in?" Aware that others might hear her and figure out their relationship, she used his rank and last name.

There was no answer so she fished the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to the room.

He was sleeping now even though it was midday. Curled up like a small child, he clutched the top corner of his blanket in his left hand. It appeared like he had kicked the rest of it off himself and onto the floor.

Looking at the dark smudges under Murdock's closed eyes, she realized he was not getting deep restful sleep even without the nightmares to upset him.

 _Something's still bothering him._

She watched for a moment and saw his jaw muscles tighten, then relax. A frown appeared and then disappeared.

 _What are you dreaming about, H. M.?_

Hesitant to wake him, she set the tray on his dresser and drew up a chair close to his bedside. Sharon, the other nurse on duty, was manning the desk for as long as it took Dani to coax her patient to eat. If she sat and watched him for a few minutes, no one would mind.

Murdock mumbled something and rolled over onto his back, flinging both arms to either side across the bed and loosening his grip on the blanket corner. The cover slid to the floor at the nurse's feet.

"I'm ready . . . I'm ready . . . " he muttered.

It didn't sound like a nightmare stirring in his mind. She waited a few moments more but he seemed to relax.

Bending to pick up the blanket from the floor, she startled when his hand appeared in front of her face. His fingers gripped the gold chain with the engagement ring. She hadn't noticed the ring on its chain had fallen out from where it was hidden.

She looked up to find him frowning at the ring. His gaze traveled from that to her eyes.

"Where'd ya get this?" he demanded.

She froze in place, not knowing what he would do next or how to answer him.

 _Can I tell him the truth? Or will he hurt me to get the ring back?_

"Where'd ya get it?" he repeated, keeping his grip on the necklace and his angry confused gaze on her face.

"The . . . the ring . . . means s . . . something to you?" she stammered, hoping he would tell her what he remembered.

"Damn right it does! Now I wanna know why ya got my Ma's weddin' ring danglin' on that chain 'round yer neck!" His voice was increasing in volume and she knew if she didn't give a satisfactory answer he might have to be restrained by the orderlies.

She decided she had to meet his angry tone with one of her own. "If you let me sit up and let go of the ring, I'll tell you. If not, I'll call for help and you'll be sedated and restrained. It's your choice, H. M." Too late she realized she had used a more casual form of addressing him than the other nurses and orderlies did.

He realized it, too. A deep frown appeared as if he were trying to sift through his memories to figure out why she used those initials.

He released his hold and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit facing her. The suddenness of his action made her flinch away from him. Seeing that, he raised both hands in a kind of surrender, his palms toward her. His tone softened."I ain' gonna hurt ya. Jus' tell me."

The anger and confusion were still there but he made no attempt to grab her arm.

She took a deep breath if only to buy herself some time to think of an answer.

"I know already what this ring means to you. You told me a few months ago before you gave it to me. Your mother told you to keep it until you found the girl you knew you wanted to be your wife." His intense gaze was still on her. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she glanced down at the floor. For a few moments neither of them spoke.

"An' that gal was you?" His tone dropped to a low murmur. When she looked back at him she found he was visually assessing her face, her body, and then her face again. "But why're ya hidin' it if yer th' one I asked t' marry me?"

"You aren't well enough to leave the VA hospital yet . . . " She couldn't finish the sentence.

"'N' you'd lose yer job if they knew?"

She nodded, her vision beginning to blur with tears she didn't want to shed.

He stared at her, uncertainty in his eyes. "I don' r'member. Wouldn' I r'member somethin' . . . if someone . . . if you . . . were th' one . . . " Groaning in frustration, he scrubbed his face with both hands.

"Do you want the ring back?" she whispered, swiping away her tears with her sleeve.

 _Please, please, H. M., say no. Don't ask me to give it back._

"I . . . I don' know . . . I gotta know why I gave it to ya t' b'gin with. I wouldn't o' jus' handed it off t' th' first pretty face I saw." He hesitated. "But how d' I find out?"

She saw a faint blush appear on his cheeks. "I . . . I mean, yer pretty 'n' you've been nice t' me but . . . "

"We'll take it slow. Get to know me all over again. Maybe along the way, you'll remember." She took his hand in hers. "Please? Give it a chance?"

He stared down at their hands for a moment, then said without meeting her eyes, "I got some thinkin' t' do. Th' people I've been with . . . th' leader . . . he said I had t' find my purpose t' find peace inside. I don' know right now if that means bein' a husband."

Her heart sank. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she thought about what he said. She knew the leader he was talking about wasn't Hannibal. It had to be someone he met during the last mission.

 _I've got to talk to Hannibal or Face and find out what they know about this._

He put two fingers under her chin and lifted her head gently so she could look in his eyes. "But if I promised somethin' as serious as marriage t' you, I'll try my hardest t' r'member. I promise ya that, darlin'."


	34. Chapter 34

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 34

Face drummed his fingers on the hotel room tabletop as he waited for Dani to answer the phone at her apartment. None of them were sure why she hadn't been home whenever they made an attempt to call. She hadn't called Face either even though he broke Hannibal's rules and gave her his current phone number. Her absence and Richter's instructions for the team to stay away for a while worried the conman.

 _Hannibal wouldn't tell B. A. or me anything after he called Richter. I've got to know what's going on. To hell with Hannibal and his silence!_

She answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dani. It's Face." He waited for a response and felt the chilled silence as it stretched out for a few seconds.

Finally she sighed and answered him, her voice strained. "What do you want?"

 _What does she think I want?_

"I didn't call to play twenty questions, Dani. I want to know how Murdock is. I know Hannibal called Richter but Hannibal won't tell me anything."

"Why? You need him to fly you somewhere? You need him for a mission? You tell Hannibal it isn't gonna happen. Not for a _good long time._ " Her tone was fierce and even though she seemed angry, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't call about a mission. Hannibal doesn't know I'm calling. But both B. A. and I want to know how he is. Is he talking to anyone?" He felt his own temper rising.

 _Does she honestly think that's the only reason we ever get him out of the hospital?_

"I'm not answering any questions until you answer some for me." Her voice hardened. "I want to know who was telling him he had to find his _purpose_ in life. Who's this leader he's talking about?"

"The cult leader. He heard a lot of stuff the guy said on some tapes they made him listen to that made staying with that group very attractive to him." Face nervously swiped his hand over his hair. He suddenly wished he had called Richter instead.

 _What was I thinking? She's afraid he won't come back from a mission one of these times and look how we returned him this time._

" _Cult_?" he heard her hiss. "What the _hell_ were you all thinking?"

"It wasn't _my_ decision. Hannibal made the plan and Murdock accepted his part in it. I have more mountain-climbing experience than Murdock. I guess that's why Hannibal . . . "

"I don't care. The man who asked me to marry him is trapped inside his own mind now because of Hannibal's _plan_ and I don't know if I'll ever see him again. He's still the sweet man I fell in love with but he doesn't remember _who I am_!" He heard a deep breath on the other end of the line.

Face felt his stomach wrench. "Does he remember the team? Does he remember me, his best friend?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then she slammed the receiver down so hard he cringed.

 _Wrong thing to say, I guess._

In a way, her response to his question told him everything he needed to know. Glancing at B. A., he shrugged and put the phone back in its cradle.

"Fool ain' any better?" The big man's deep scowl might have seemed like irritation but Face knew how worried he was.

"She says he doesn't remember who she is. She said he's focused on finding his purpose in life, whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Means th' fool still ain' right," B. A. growled, looking down at the floor.

Face noticed the big man's inability to make eye contact. "If you're still thinking that knockout punch made him worse . . . "

"Ain' that, man."

The con man watched as B. A. stared at his hand and slowly flexed the fingers, curling them into a fist.

 _Better to drop it. He won't stop regretting that punch until he sees Murdock's alright._

"He needs us to bring him back from wherever he is in his mind. Richter and Dani have had their chance. He needs us."

B. A. glanced up, a surprised look on his face. "Richter ain' gonna let us see him. Hannibal ain' gonna either."

"But we know how to get it done without them knowing, don't we?"

"We gonna break him outta there?"

"You know how to make the lights go out, right?" Face smiled, already thinking of the climb up to Murdock's window and how easy it would be to persuade his buddy to come with him.

 _That is, once I convince him we need him to fly us somewhere. He's had time to remember things. He'll remember me. Piece of cake, like Hannibal always says._

"Jus' like all th' other times?" There was a hint of determination in the big man's voice.

"Like the other times. Only this time Hannibal isn't going to know about it. We'll spring him tonight."

 _Just the act of breaking out of the VA should bring back his memory. At least, I hope it does._

oooooo

Later that afternoon . . .

Dani frowned at the envelope in her hand. She knew she was supposed to deliver it right away but she couldn't help but be curious.

Murdock got so few pieces of mail and then usually only junk mail and magazines he subscribed to. He had asked her to find out an ex-Huey pilot's whereabouts a year or more ago.

 _What was his name again? Joe . . . yeah, that's right . . . Joe Brovosky from Louisiana . . . H. M. wanted him to find out some information . . . but I don't remember him ever getting mail from Louisiana . . ._

She turned the envelope over in her hands. The handwriting on the front from a decidedly feminine hand was in blue ink. The name was unfamiliar and the return address was not from anyplace near Murdock's home town of Sour Lake. It wasn't from Louisiana either.

 _If he doesn't remember me will he remember this person? I wonder who she is._

Knocking at Murdock's door and announcing herself, Dani produced the key and opened it. The pilot sat crosslegged on his bed, his hands on his knees, his eyes closed.

She sighed. Disturbing him when he was in this meditative state carried a certain amount of risk. The possibility of injury depended on how deeply he was focused.

She glanced at the bluish-green imprint of fingers halfway between her wrist and elbow. He apologized afterward but that didn't lessen the pain and fear she had experienced.

More cautious now, she spoke before approaching him.

"H. M.? I have a letter for you."

He frowned, making no other movements.

"It isn't junk mail," she continued, sitting down in a folding chair well away from his reach. "It's from someone in Texas."

He shook his head slightly as if trying to rouse himself from sleep but didn't open his eyes. "Don' know anybody that'd be writin' me from Texas. Gotta be a mistake."

"Well, it's addressed to a Captain H. M. Murdock and a woman sent it. If you want me to just leave it here . . . " She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see it and secretly hoping he wouldn't ask her to do that.

"What's th' name on it?" He glared at her then, his jaw tightening as if she had disturbed something extremely important.

"'Paula Heller Fromstead.'"

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Heller?"

 _That name. I don't remember him ever talking about anyone named Heller. But he reacted to it._

Nodding, she repeated the full name. "Paula Heller Fromstead."

Suddenly very attentive, he swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to accept the envelope. The quick movement made her subconsciously step back a step. Unaware of her momentary fear, he grabbed it out of her hand.

"Should . . . should I stay?" She wasn't sure. He was already scanning the address and then eagerly slipping his finger under the flap to open it.

"Whatever . . . if ya wanna . . . " He waved his hand at her absently as he tore the letter from its confines and scanned it.

 _Then . . . then I guess I'll stay._

Chewing on her lower lip, unsure of what to do, she waited for him to say something, anything. Self-consciously she shifted from one foot to the other.

Finally, he glanced up at her, lost in thought. "I need a stamped envelope."

"I'll get one for you." Pausing and nodding at the letter, she asked, "Is it trouble?"

"I don' know. I gotta let this gal know she got hold o' me, that I still live here. Maybe she'll write 'gain 'n' let me know." He was reading the letter over again as he spoke.

Dani wished she could see what the woman had written but Murdock wouldn't like that. It would be violating his privacy to insist.

"If there's any way I can help . . . " She left the sentence unfinished.

"Yeah, you can." He raised one eyebrow as he shooed her out the door by waving his hand. "Get me a envelope 'n' stamp."

She left on the errand, knowing that she would have to once again talk to Face and this time ask him about Joe Brovosky from Louisiana and Paula Fromstead.

 _But will he even talk to me after I hung up on him this morning?_


	35. Chapter 35

Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 35

As the telephone rang for the fourth time that afternoon, Face sighed and glared at it.

B. A. was on his way back from dropping Hannibal off at his apartment and he was all alone. He didn't mind that. Face needed time to think through the plan for that night. But he couldn't stop remembering the last time he saw his buddy.

 _He didn't even look back. He didn't know us anymore._

Shaking his head in irritation at the phone, he squelched the memory once again.

"Stop ringing already," he muttered. "Don't want to talk to you."

He knew who it was who was so insistent on speaking with him. The only person other than his own team members that had access to this number was Dani and right now he didn't want to have the phone slammed in his ear again. He regretted giving her the number now but at the time he thought she could better relay any message from Murdock that way.

 _Who was I kidding?_

Murdock hadn't asked her about any of them and hadn't needed anything from them.

 _Maybe Richter and Dani don't realize how important we are to Murdock's sanity. They probably think he needs to be rid of us before he'll be rid of the flashbacks and nightmares._

That thought convinced the con man even more how important their plan for that night was.

 _If she gets even a small hint that we're going to spring Murdock tonight she'll make sure she's waiting to stop us. Can't let that happen, can I?_

After the eighth ring, the caller hung up. Face sighed in relief.

 _Let her think what she wants. We're as worried as she is about him. And he does need us._

Satisfied with his decision to avoid conversation with the nurse, he strolled out to the deck of the beach house. The gentle ocean breeze refreshed his spirits . . .

. . . until the phone started ringing again.

Gritting his teeth, the con man took the steps to the beach and set off through the sand to find a place where he wouldn't be tempted to pick up the receiver.

 _And if it's still ringing when B. A. gets back, let him talk to her. Maybe she won't bite his head off._

oooooo

 _Murdock maneuvered the Huey over a lush greenery of towering treetops, intent on dodging enemy fire should it come and scanning what he could see ahead of him for a particular location._

 _He felt like he had been here, done this, before and he wasn't sure why. Shrugging, he chalked it up to deja vu and continued to search the landscape._

" _I gotta be nuts, this far north 'n' no idea what I'm lookin' for." He said the thought out loud and then laughed self-consciously, glancing at the empty seat where his invisible co-pilot sat. "No 'fficial orders 'n' no plan. What was I thinkin'?"_

 _He felt his knee throb with a pain he hadn't known since his captivity in the POW camp. He grimaced, remembering how the guards clubbed him with their rifle butts and damaged his knee as they beat him._

 _Billy shook his head at him, an action Murdock somehow 'saw' in his mind._

" _Don' look at me. I',only here t' give ya moral s'pport." He snorted as if thinking of something funny. "'N' since when d' you worry over 'fficial orders 'n' plans?"_

 _The pilot ignored the comment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was true. And he knew it only too well._

" _I know I'm lookin' for somethin' . . . somethin' . . . " Murdock frowned. "An LZ? Rice Paddy? A river? What?"_

 _In the next minute he pointed the Huey toward a reflective rectangular surface a short distance away. "That's it, Billy! I'm sure of it!"_

 _Again he had the nagging feeling he had seen this location before. In his tours over in Nam he had some pretty spectacular views of the jungle canopy interspersed with fields of elephant grass and rice paddies._

" _Ya seen one rice paddy, ya seen 'em all," he muttered, wracking his brain for why he was so concerned about finding this particular one._

 _As he neared the watery surface, he blinked in disbelief. In the murky waters, resting against the mud embankment between the flooded fields, crouched two men dressed in the ragged black uniforms of POWs._

 _He recognized both of them and whooped in joy._

" _Look, Billy! It's Wilson 'n' Face!" His joy was short-lived. Scanning the paddy, he felt his stomach twist in apprehension. "But where's Heller? Where's Chuck Heller?"_

 _In the next moment, he spotted the third escapee, his hands up, the enemy soldiers approaching him with their rifles trained on him._

 _The sun dimmed suddenly and then went dark._

 _For a second he panicked. Flying blind meant he couldn't try to rescue any of his three friends._

 _Swallowing hard, he maintained a firm hold on the cyclic and collective, attempting to lift the bird up and hover in one place. He didn't understand what was happening but he wasn't about to crash the chopper._

" _Maybe it's jus' a cloud hidin' th' sun." Murdock swallowed hard and nodded to himself. "Yeah, that's what it is. It's gotta be."_

 _The pilot sensed Billy was no longer with him. Maybe whatever was happening scared him away. That terrified Murdock._

 _A gentle light filled the cockpit just as suddenly as the sun had dimmed moments before. Warm and comforting at the same time, it enveloped him like a soft blanket._

" _You have found the thing you were called to do. Once you have accomplished that you will have peace. Soon you will have to start a solo journey to your destiny." A quiet familiar voice spoke to him._

 _It seemed to surround him even as he recognized who was talking to him._

" _Reverend Barger?" he whispered, relieved and scared all at the same time._

" _Do not let your team mates deter you from your calling. Say your goodbyes to Daniela. Let your last words with her be peaceful and said in love."_

 _Murdock gulped. "That don't soun' like I'll be returnin' from whatever this is."_

" _Nothing is assured but at the end, you will find peace. You must wait for the proper time to leave this place and find peace."_

 _The glow faded until there was nothing but the inky darkness. The pilot sucked in a sharp breath as he realized he was once again navigating the chopper without any idea how far above the treetops he hovered._

" _I'm gonna crash . . . " His hands were numb from the death grip he had on the controls. The collective and cyclic had gone rubbery in his hands, fighting his grip. Trying to flex his fingers, he found them frozen in place._

" _Don' leave me! Come back! I'm . . . gonna . . . "_

"Captain Murdock? H. M.? Please . . . please wake up . . . you're hurting me . . . "

Dazed, he forced his eyes open. The pretty nurse . . . _Daniela? Donna?_. . . who seemed to know him better than anyone else, even Doctor Richter, grimaced and attempted to pull away from the grasp he had on both of her wrists.

"I . . . I'm . . . sorry," he managed as he searched her eyes for help. He silently commanded his fingers to uncurl and was thankful when they obeyed.

She backed away from his bedside, rubbing her wrists, fear in her expression.

"Don' be scared, darlin' . . . please?"

She wordlessly shook her head and stammered, "You were . . . you were having a nightmare. I forgot . . . I forgot . . . "

She didn't have to tell him what she forgot. He knew he was unpredictable whenever he woke from a nightmare. As he stared at her, wanting to find the right words to make things right between them again, flashes of memories sparked in his mind and faded, one after the other. All seemed to be times he spent with this woman alone. Closing his eyes, he focused on making them clearer. He had _promised_ her he would try to remember.

"Captain?" He heard her as if from a distance.

The last mind picture was the most intimate and painful for him to remember. He saw himself lean forward to kiss her, then pull back to place a velvet-covered box in her hand. He saw the surprise and tears as she realized what it was. He heard the whispered "Yes" to his question.

He remembered who she was and what she meant to him.

"Dani. My angel," he murmured as he opened his eyes to look at her.

Tears spilling down her cheeks, she froze in place. She took a deep shuddering breath.

"Don' be 'fraid o' me." Looking at her, he realized with crushing despair he had frightened her badly. He wanted more than anything to get up from the bed and move toward her but he couldn't for fear she would bolt from the room. "Please, angel . . . darlin' . . . don' be 'fraid."

Reverend Barger's words came back to him. He had to make amends, then say goodbye when it was time for him to leave.

"I don't know if you're really here," she whispered. "It's been so long."

 _She's still 'fraid. She thinks I'm gonna forget her 'gain._

Murdock forced a silly smirk. "I think I'm here. Here, lemme check." Pinching the fleshy part of his arm, he pretended to grimace. "Ouch! Here, you wanna try?" He slowly rose from the bed and held out his hand to her.

Her tears continued to trail down her face as she cautiously came to him. Stopping a couple of feet from him, she hesitated to come nearer.

 _I know only one way she's gonna b'lieve I r'member._

Clearing the remaining distance, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. As he did, he let the memories wash over him. He continued the kiss, snaking his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

He was relieved when she tentatively returned the embrace.

"I r'member th' flowers I got ya. Daisies 'n' roses. Daisies b'cause ya like 'em so much 'n' roses 'cause I had somethin' 'portant t' ask you."

He murmured the words in her ear, stopping at the end to kiss her neck.

She was trembling in his embrace yet tightening her hold as he continued to reassure her.

"'N' you said yes." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "I'm gonna marry you someday, Daniela Scalatini."

As he held her against his chest, smoothing back her hair, letting her cry, he wondered if he would be able to leave when it was time to go. His future and any chance for peace depended on a response from a woman in Texas.

 _But maybe Paula Fromstead won' answer my letter._

If the ghost of Reverend Barger was right, she would. And he had to be ready.


End file.
